


A Phoenix First Must Burn

by Naite_Laef



Series: Allure [3]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Adolescent Sexuality, Bottom Zuko (Avatar), Consensual Underage Sex, Depression, Episode: s02e20 The Crossroads of Destiny, From Sex to Love, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Iroh is a Good Uncle (Avatar), M/M, Menstruation, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Oral Sex, Past Child Abuse, Protective Iroh (Avatar), Self-Discovery, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Zuko (Avatar), Transphobia, Vaginal Sex, Zuko Joins The Gaang Early (Avatar), Zuko-Centric (Avatar), rape but it only happened briefly in a nightmare, zuko has some fucked up opinions but he's still growing as a person so that'll get better, zuko is confused about everything all the time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 09:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30103683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naite_Laef/pseuds/Naite_Laef
Summary: Zuko must make a choice.Part three of Allure AU, where Zuko is transgender (assigned female at birth).Chapters broken up oddly throughout the story so readers can skip detailed sex scenes that may trigger dysphoria.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Jet/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Allure [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006965
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	1. A Man Needs His Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Main TWs throughout this chapter: suicidal thoughts, brief implied past sexual assault, gender dysphoria, discussion of possible sexual assault on trans character. More detailed content warnings in end note.

Days pass in agony. The wound on his face is so fresh that it hurts to choke down air. 

Weeks come and go in darkness. The light of the lantern at his bedside sends sharp pain shooting through the front of his skull. The warmth of the flame sends alarm down his tense spine.

It's months before Zuko can actually begin his search- too many months before he can stand to firebend again. The terms of Zuko's banishment are clear, though. Either he returns home with the Avatar, or he doesn't return home at all. 

It’s not even a conscious decision. He will capture the Avatar, even if it kills him.

One year passes, and Zuko's jaw starts to click when he unhinges it to scream. His teeth ache as he grinds them down little by little, each and every day. 

One year bleeds into two, and Zuko's fire burns brighter than ever. It’s orange- not blue, never blue, but still hotter than what he could create back at the palace. Covered in sweat, he trains from dawn to dusk. Surrounded by ancient texts, he researches from dusk to dawn. He has no where to start, so he starts where the Avatar Cycle should have picked up after Roku- the Air Nomads. They’re supposed to be gone, just as the Avatar’s supposed to be gone. Just as Zuko’s supposed to be gone. 

So, obviously they’re not all gone.

Two years become three. Zuko is angry, desperate, and afraid. There are days when he wants to end it all. There are days where he leans over the railing, closes his eyes, and wonders what it would be like to just fall. Sometimes, he catches a reflection of his mutilated face in the metal work of the ship, and part of him wants to take the Earth Kingdom dagger hidden in his boot and just shave the scar right off his stupid face. He was lucky to have survived such a grievous injury the first time around. He knows he won't be lucky enough to live through a second. And while the thoughts are tempting, he never acts on them. The ache to die is strong, but his will to live is stronger. He just wants to go home.

He feels scared, and lost, and alone. Zuko just wants his dad.

In the end, Zuko doesn't find the Avatar- not really, anyway. The Avatar finds him first. He ends up chasing the boy monk across the world, committing treason left and right in order to keep the airbender out of Zhao's grasp. The Avatar is Zuko's prize to capture- the only thing standing between a banished prince and his homeland. It needs to be him who brings their greatest adversary home in chains.

Of course, nothing in life has ever come easily to Zuko. Too many close encounters with death later, he finds himself staring down a giant water monster- presumably the ocean spirit, if the glowing boy in the monster's core is any indication. 

Zuko's life flashes before his eyes. Instead of praying to the sun spirit for salvation like any other firebender would be apt to do, he squeezes his eyes shut, too afraid to watch death take him. And just like that, he cannot see how he ever wanted to stop living. 

Unbidden, he thinks of his family. Ursa; long, dark brown hair, eyes just a shade darker than his own. Azula; voice silky smooth, and eyes full of cunning. Iroh; his wrinkled eyes shining with warmth, even as a grinning Lu Ten swings a wiry arm around the old man. Too late, a fuzzy image of his father worms its way into his panic-stricken mind, the colours dark and faded, as if his father could change so drastically since the last time they'd seen one another. As if Zuko doesn't quite remember what he looks like. 

As destiny would have it, however, he will see his father again. He will not die here, because the spirit monster doesn't so much as spare him a glance before grabbing only the admiral.

Zuko doesn't know why he does it. He leaps to the railing of the bridge, arm outstretched to reach for Zhao. "Take my hand!" he shouts, eyes wide. 

Zhao's fingers twitch. The man hesitates, and the strange look on his face is gone so quickly that Zuko wonders if it'd been there at all. Then Zhao tucks his arm closer to his body, refusing to be granted a mercy he doesn't deserve. The ocean swallows the admiral alive, and the water creature moves on, never once looking back. 

Fate spares Zuko. Again. 

While stranded on a sketchy raft for several weeks after the Siege of the North Pole, Zuko has plenty of time to think. Uncle tries to extract some sort of confession from him, insisting that it's okay to not be okay, what with all the traumatic experiences the teen has dealt with recently. Zuko would roll his eyes, but lacks the mental energy to do so. He doesn't feel traumatised. Back on his ship, he felt too many things- anger, guilt, shame, fear, and even grief. Now, though… he doesn't really feel anything. 

On the outside, the small cuts scattered across his face sting with drying sweat and saltwater, and the bruise at the corner of his jaw throbs with every swallow. His burn scar already impedes the vision of his left eye, and now his other side sports a black eye, letting loose a fresh wave of aches with every painful blink. He's pretty sure he's bruised a rib or two, maybe twisted an ankle. The smaller fingers on one hand are all swollen, likely smashed at some point during the siege. It's all cosmetic, though. It's superficial damage, much like Zuko's oldest scar. That one doesn't hurt just because his face had been burned. It hurts because his father- 

It hurts because Zuko did this to himself. Because Zuko deserved it. It hurts because the love and respect he held for his father hadn't made a difference. It hurts because his father had looked at his tear-stained face, had heard his cries for mercy, and he'd set his child on fire. It hurts because Zhao had said his father- if his father really wanted him home, he would have already- 

There's still a bit of rage simmering just below the surface, quietly biding its time. But mostly, he's just kind of… empty inside. 

"I'm tired," is all Zuko can tell his Uncle, voice soft and hoarse. 

And when Zuko stands at the edge of the stream, his uncle beside him, the wariness has sunken deep into his bones. The exhaustion has become a part of him- the way he thinks, the way he feels, the way he breathes. 

Instead of his dishonour being confined largely to Fire Nation territory, it will be broadcast to every corner of the world, and a bounty will accompany his name and face. He doesn't even know if he can restore his honour at this point. He doesn't know if he deserves to call himself a prince ever again. It's been three whole years since his banishment, and he has less than nothing to show for it. Now, in no uncertain terms, he knows that he may never go home again.

He may never see his father again. 

Without a word, he discretely slips a hand into his robe and up his back, one finger dislodging the knife hidden up his binding vest. He knocks it loose, making it fall down the curve of his spine and into his palm. Pulling it from his clothes, he unsheaths it, and raises it to the top of his head. With one hand on the blade, his other hand wraps around his plume of hair. He saws through the bound strands, wanting this to be over as quickly as possible. Sharp pains prickle through his scalp as he works, but finally, his hair falls slack in his white-knuckled grip.

Wordlessly, he passes the knife to his uncle. Zuko knows Iroh must recognise the blade, but the old man doesn't say anything. He only severs his own topknot with ease, the grey hair already thin with age.

They watch together as the last ties to both their family and nation drift down the river. 

The first few weeks drag on, the pair surviving off of leaves, nuts, and the occasional hoppy possum or meadow vole Iroh incapacitates. The only nutrition Zuko manages to contribute is a tiny fish here and there, speared through with the end of a very long and pointy stick. He doesn't have his swords with him, and he just doesn't have the heart to roast something alive. He has no experience killing or maiming anyone, let alone an animal. His uncle doesn't, either, but the old man at least has his military experience to get him through the most basic concepts of hunting. 

Iroh has killed men. He can kill a small animal without remorse.

Zuko... can't. Zuko can barely kill the fish, for spirits’ sake.

Father is right. He really is a coward. 

"This is impossible!" he shouts into the sky, as if anyone would actually care to listen. Stomping over to their makeshift camp with his sad excuse of a catch, Zuko waves the stick around in the air. The teeny-tiny fish wiggles off the end in protest, rolling across his foot in a sad attempt to escape. He just glares at it. Needless to say, he is not adjusting well to life on the run.

Ultimately, their fugitive status changes Iroh very little. When the man turns around, Zuko cries out in surprise, revolted by the swollen, red splotches covering his uncle's face. Iroh's obsession has landed them in hot water, and not the kind that makes White Dragon Bush tea.

They stumble back through the countryside, headed for the last village they recall seeing. Sure enough, a compassionate stranger points them in the direction of a small hospital, and after taking just one look at Iroh, too. Zuko helps his rashy relative shuffle into the clinic, explaining to a healer that the man brewed a toxic plant with no small amount of annoyance in his voice.

"Lee and Mushi, hmm?" a young woman says, covering Iroh's blotchy skin with a thick paste. If she knows their names are fake, she doesn't let on. "I'm Song. It's nice to meet you both," is her only reply. The sincerity in her soft voice causes Zuko to look away, the sound almost immediately overwhelming. It's been a long time since anyone has shown him such kindness. 

He doesn't want it. Doesn’t deserve it.

According to the ocean spirit, he doesn't even deserve death. Suffering will be his teacher.

"It is lovely to meet you as well," Iroh tells her, charming as ever. "Though I wish it were under- ah, different circumstances." He gives a sheepish smile, which makes the girl laugh.

"You both look like you could use a good meal," Song continues, finally turning to Zuko. "Why don't you two join my mother and me for dinner?"

"We can't," the teen intones, avoiding her eyes. "We really should get going."

"That's too bad," Song replies with a knowing grin. "My mother always makes too much roast duck." She turns back to her patient, slapping away hands that want nothing more than to scratch at his rash.

"Roast duck?" Uncle butts in, grinning even as he gets another slap on the wrist. "Where did you say you live again?"

Grasping the bridge of his nose in annoyance, Zuko sighs. Reluctantly, he allows himself to be cajoled into following the young woman home after her shift, he and his uncle joining Song and her mother for a quiet dinner.

"We were once refugees, too," the mother tells them, placing a promised roast duck down on the low table. She sits with a ghost of a smile on her lips. "We lived Northwest of here, along the Mo Ce Sea coast."

"When I was a little girl, the Fire Nation raided our village," Song explains, her face pinching slightly. "They took all the men away." She bows her head, the memory clearly striking a chord of sadness in her. "That was the last time I saw my father."

Mismatched eyes widen, and Zuko stares at the girl for a few moments, unable to form a response. Then, before he can think better of it, he says in a low voice, "I haven't seen my father in many years." He looks away, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched tightly.

"Oh," Song says, perking up a little in curiosity. "Is your father off fighting in the war?"

"Yeah," Zuko answers, head still down. Yeah, he thinks. Something like that. 

The duck tastes bitter as he remembers his first and only war meeting. The duck tastes like ash as he remembers how he used to play with the turtleducks back in his mother's garden. As a child, they had been beautiful, intriguing creatures. But here in the Earth Kingdom, turtleducks are cuisine- nothing more than fuel for war-ravaged lands with little else to eat. Now almost a man, Zuko finds his childhood on a plate before him, the only thing keeping his stomach from growling any louder. 

Things… had been better when Zuko was very young. Everything had been so much simpler. Not necessarily easy, but lighter. Less suffocating. He can remember bits and pieces of a different life- one where his family had been whole. Ozai had been a different person back then.

Or had he always been the kind of man who could order his own child's warrant for arrest, and Zuko had just been too blind to see it before? Had Zuko been too young and naive to realise it, or too stupid and cowardly to do anything about it?

Maybe it was Zuko who had been different back then. He doesn't know anymore, to be honest. He doesn't even know if he cares. Either way, Zuko has failed one too many times, and he must regain his father's approval, assuming he ever really had it in the first place. He doesn't know how, but he'll figure something out. The hand not holding his chopsticks curls into a fist beneath the table. He will do whatever it takes.

He can’t fail again.

Later that evening, as Iroh offers to help Song's mother with the dishes, Zuko takes the opportunity to slip out of the small home. He settles onto the dimly lit porch, legs crossed, and stares into the dark horizon. 

Being Lee, and not Zuko, feels wrong on so many levels. To have someone look him in the eyes and call him the wrong name… it feels akin to when someone refers to him as 'she' or 'Princess.' It's the same exact feeling, like the air in his lungs has been stifled by smoke from his own flames. It feels as though there's nothing he can truly do but stand there, and burn.

Smoking skin, crisp eyelashes, a deep ache behind his left eye-

His scar is dry, and cracking. It hurts.

The dry heat of the Southern Earth Kingdom presses down on him from all sides, even on a relatively nice night. It's so alien when compared to the sticky humidity of the Fire Nation Capital. He wants to strip down to his underclothes and lay on silken sheets, cooled by the fabric against his bare skin. Wrapped in just his binder and undershorts, alone in his oversized bed back in the palace, Zuko could be himself in his truest form. 

Here, though, there is too much trapping the heat to his body. The fine grime of sweat and natural oils stick to his skin from a lack of proper hygiene, and his rough cotton clothes hang off of his slimming frame, and the dark dust clings to worn boots that squeeze his toes just a little too tightly. And, of course, the name that ties this pathetic persona together falls heavy on his tongue every time he has to speak it. Zuko hates all of it, and every moment that he pretends to be someone he's not is another moment that the real him slips a little further out of reach. 

"Lee," Song's gentle voice calls, breaking him from his thoughts. "Can I join you?" She doesn't wait for an answer, which is fine, because he can't exactly refuse her company while a guest on her own land. 

He doesn't want her pity, or her friendship. He just wants to be left alone. 

She closes the front door behind her, and shyly moves closer to him. "I know what you've been through. We've all been through it," she starts, taking a seat next to him. She's close, too close, and her words pile up between them as she tries to climb over the emotional barricades he's erected. 

"The Fire Nation has hurt you," she whispers, unfazed by his silence. Then, the barest movement shines through his left eye. He can make out the colour of her light skin, slowly rising through the air- reaching up to touch the mark on his face. He waits for her to stop, or hesitate, or change her mind, but she doesn't. So, he grabs her wrist, firmly but with as much care as he can muster, to thwart her efforts without hurting her.

No one has touched him there, except a physician, and that was only right after it happened- Tah, maybe? One of his assistants? Zuko doesn't remember, having been half-delirious with pain at the time. Regardless, no one else has so much as dared to touch the left side of his face, and no one ever will. 

Song takes the hint, and retracts her hand, but he still can't look at her. Not until she speaks again. 

"It's okay," she tells him. "They've hurt me, too." With steady hands, she pulls her pant leg up, revealing swirling, second-degree burns wrapped around her calf.

Zuko turns, eyes locked onto the light pink pattern, faded, but still too vibrant a colour against her fair skin. It's an old burn, he can tell. She must've been young when-

His breath catches, and he can't stop himself. His eyes shift to her face, horror written clear across his own.

Song isn't a soldier. Song is a civilian. Song shouldn't have been hurt like that- who could hurt an innocent person like that?

But Song doesn't look alarmed like he does. She looks calm- accepting of her circumstances, as if it's just something that happens in war. As if this is normal.

She's only a few years older than him at most, judging by her position at the clinic. The wound could have been from half a lifetime ago, for all he knows. Ten or so years since her father was taken from her. Ten or so years since she'd been driven from her home with no hope of returning. Ten or so years since she was battered by his own countrymen. How did it happen? Had she tried to protect her mother? Had she been running away? Or had her legs been forced apart as a Fire Nation soldier hiked up her skirts, and-

He slams his eyes shut, a brief moment of panic overtaking him as he desperately tries to un-think.

He feels too raw. Too exposed.

She said they were the same, but they're not. They have something in common- several things, really- a burn and a banishment, of sorts. Someone tried to take what wasn't theirs- their bodies. Both had been burned, and turned out from the only life they'd ever known, homes ripped from underneath their feet. And now, both must start a new life elsewhere, with whatever scraps of themselves they've managed to save.

However, the major difference between them stands clear and stark in the way they speak. The way they carry themselves couldn't be anymore distinct. In the end, Song has healed, and now she heals others. That's who she is. Zuko, though- Zuko is still hurting. And now he is someone who hurts others. 

He wasn't always like this.

Would Mother be disappointed in him?

Chasing a 12-year-old across the world, tying a girl to a tree, battering down the lone boy-warrior who dared to protect an entire village by himself.

And it didn't get him anywhere. 

He's certainly disappointed in himself- and maybe for the wrong reasons. That much he can admit. 

When they say their goodbyes, he tries to leave quickly and quietly. Song sees right through him, though. 

"I know you don't think there's any hope left in the world. But there is hope," she says, and he stops in his tracks, still turned away from her. "The Avatar has returned."

A long moment passes as cold, subdued anger floods Zuko's chest. It takes everything in him not to outwardly react. His eyes close for a long, terse moment, and he forces the influx of emotion down.

"I know," he mutters, and he walks away.

He tells himself he doesn't feel guilty about stealing her ostrich horse. He tells himself a lot of things, though, and it never stops the chaotic thoughts running rampant in his mind. 

For some reason, Uncle Iroh stays with him. They wander, waste away, and wait, until some old person talks to Uncle about Ba Sing Se. Surrounded with tiers of impossibly high walls, thick and well-guarded, the Earth Kingdom capital reportedly serves as a beacon to any and all looking for an escape from the war. Safe, other poor, wide-eyed refugees agree. They see the old burn encompassing Zuko's eye socket, and their pity flows freely. There is no war in Ba Sing Se, they assure him, looking past the colour of his eyes to the stiff eyelid that doesn't quite open all the way. No Fire Nation beyond the walls, they add, as if he hadn't heard them the first five times. Nonetheless, Uncle thanks them for their advice, Zuko holds his tongue, and they move along.

The pain comes out of nowhere. Hunched over, Zuko can barely strangle out a reply when his worried uncle comes flocking to his side for answers. "Stomach," Zuko growls, and then suddenly the terrible, gut-wrenching sensation winds down to a dull throb somewhere deep in his abdomen. 

Uncle is the first to see it, barely visible by the light of their small campfire. 

"Zuko," the man stiffly says, suddenly pale with an expression the boy doesn't quite recognise. "Your trousers..."

At first, Zuko frantically searches for a wound, very aware of the frightening location of such a bloodstain between his legs. After a moment, though, Iroh simply places his hands over his nephew's shoulders, and asks him to sit still. 

"You're alright, Zuko, you're not hurt."

"But Uncle-"

"Zuko," the old man pleads, and the strained sound of his uncle's voice convinces Zuko to lower himself fully to the ground, wincing slightly when the pain returns.

"If only this had happened when we were still with Miss Song," Iroh laments, crouching down to the boy's level. 

Why is Uncle not freaking out? Usually Uncle frets over Zuko when it concerns his well-being, much like a mother turtleduck tending to a hatchling. And while it's usually irritating, it's also something familiar, and almost comforting. Now, however, Zuko feels the panic inside him grow.

Is his wound really that bad?

Will Uncle… have to leave him behind?

"What's going on?" Zuko demands. "You know what's happening, don't you? Tell me!"

With a sigh, the man finally nods. "Please. Wait here for me while I find you something else to wear. I will also need some supplies we don't have. When I come back, I will explain everything. Okay?"

Well, it's not like Zuko wants to walk around as his innards try to fall out. He reluctantly agrees, laying down with his arms crossed like a petulant child until his uncle returns.

When Zuko finally learns what's going on, he can't help but curse the spirits. It hadn't once occurred to the teen that he may start bleeding now that he can no longer afford to take jisu. He knows a little about menstrual cycles- information he's pieced together from conversations with his mother, along with some of the medical texts he's read in the palace. Nonetheless, he's completely blindsided by the revelation that this is happening to him, because- well, because this is something that happens to women. Even at the time, sitting on the floor of the palace library, such topics felt worlds away, because he never once made the connection that it would- or even could- happen to him one day. 

He can only glare at the ground as his uncle half-heartedly says that Zuko was lucky to have started taking jisu when he did. Otherwise the boy probably would've had his first cycle years ago. 

Now, Zuko looks like a teenage boy, sounds like a teenage boy, and acts like a teenage boy. He is a teenage boy. He'd have to out himself to a complete stranger in a foreign land to get any real help now. So, yes. Zuko- nauseous, smelling like death, in debilitating pain- wants to crawl into a hole somewhere and disappear forever. 

Zuko is not lucky. He never has been, and he never will be.

It's an intense pain he's never felt before, like someone is trying to tear him open from the inside out. The only thing he can relate it to is a severely upset stomach, only much deeper, and… more dense?

It's also extremely embarrassing, especially when they finally find a secluded enough spot in a stream for Zuko to wash off in, because his uncle is standing nearby as a lookout. He knows the old man won't peek, and he knows having an ally to watch his back in a moment of vulnerability is priceless, but it's still absolutely humiliating. 

He feels not only like less of a man, but less than human in this moment. 

He keeps his binder on, only sparing a few splashes to wash under his arms, because he doesn't trust that someone won't stumble upon them while he's topless. As if reading his mind, Iroh casually calls, "Wash what you can, Nephew! Young men your age develop quite the odour, you know. It's perfectly natural of course, but-"

"Uncle," he hisses. Not only does he not want to have this conversation, but they both need to have their ears open to the sound of approaching footsteps. Thankfully, the old man takes the hint, and shuts up.

The teen scrubs with his long, dirty fingernails, the water around him turning a disgusting red-brown as he tries to wash the mess between his thighs. He still feels thoroughly gross, but there's no longer dried blood to yank at the sensitive hair down there, so he'll count that as a tentative win. He desperately needs some kind of a win right now. 

He tries not to look at the rest of his body if he can help it. Having not had any jisu since Zhao blew up the supply along with his ship, and now with no funds to buy more, he can certainly catch glimpses of a very different figure standing in the water. He's not only much thinner now, from the whole starvation situation, but his fat and muscle have slowly migrated across his body. It's quite literally destroying him from the inside out, this second- third?- puberty. His revulsion for his body is only rivaled by the revulsion for his face.

He steams himself dry as best he can, and quickly changes into the clean set of clothes his uncle had set out for him. He also takes a rag- Uncle has apparently been cutting up Zuko’s stained outfit while the teen bathed- and stuffs it down his pants. Then he sits next to the old man, and he watches miserably as his uncle finishes making strips of rags and spare washcloths. 

"I actually visited a brothel while I was in town," Iroh laughs, slicing away at the last of the tough fabric with Zuko's pearl dagger. He doesn't see the horrified look on his nephew's face. "The first time in many years, and I didn't get to take any of the women to bed! How terribly disappointing."

"Why would you-?!" Zuko fumbles. Because his uncle talking about sex is bad enough, but hearing of the man's own sexual experiences is disgusting to say the least. "Uncle!" he rages, for lack of anything else to say. 

Iroh, as unapologetic as ever, shrugs, still smiling. "I didn't know who else I could ask about such a thing," he says, holding up the fraying rags. "And the ladies there were kind enough to give me a few ideas on how to make you more comfortable."

Zuko just stares at him.

That…was actually really nice of him. Iroh certainly didn't have to have done any of that, but he had, because he cares. 

He really cares about Zuko.

Fuck. Too many emotions. He feels like he's going to cry. Is this normal? To feel as though suddenly the entire world is falling apart around him? Why is he suddenly so choked up?

Outwardly, Zuko just huffs and turns away, unable to look at his uncle. But the old man stays by him all the same, still working on getting the cloths down to a reasonable size, probably knowing exactly how grateful the boy is. Because old people know everything, of course.

Uncle goes quiet for a moment. "Prince Zuko," he says, voice suddenly serious enough that Zuko has to turn back to face him. "I hope you know that this new development… it does not make you any less of a man." 

Zuko grits his teeth, emotions flaring once more. He's to snap something very angry and insulting, if only because it'll keep him from crying, but Iroh quickly speaks again. 

"Nephew," he says, firm but gentle. "Cycles are not even what makes a woman, a woman. Think about it. When women reach a certain age, they no longer have them. Girls who have not yet reached puberty, are too young to have them. And I have been told that some women, if they are too ill or underweight, may stop having them. That does not make them any less of a woman, now does it?" Without waiting for an answer, Iroh says, "I look at you, and all I see is a beautiful young man, Zuko."

Eyes narrowed, the boy replies, "I am not beautiful, Uncle!"

"What, a man can not be beautiful?" comes the casual reply, as if things were ever that easy for Zuko. "Or is it your specific appearance that worries you-"

"Uncle," the boy growls out in warning.

Iroh seems to sense how far this conversation has truly wandered into dangerous territory, and he sighs. "I love you, Zuko. I… hope you know that."

Zuko shifts to face the opposite direction entirely, both to stop the conversation and so that Uncle cannot see how his eyes have finally glossed over with unshed tears.

They move on quickly after that, Zuko being eager to get away from this small town that now carries a mortifying story with it. The teen rides behind Iroh on the ostrich horse with soiled cloth stuffed between his thighs, boiling the dirty ones clean when they stop every hour or two, and he is completely and utterly miserable about it. Uncle tells him that he's heard volatile mood swings are also a common side effect of the bleeding, and Zuko can't help but yell at the old man again. Of course he's angry. He's Zuko, and he's always angry, and-! And that's just the way he is, anyway!

"Ah. That is a good point, nephew," Iroh admits, a bit sheepishly. But he quickly turns away at the ashamed rage on his nephew's face, instead pretending to stoke the small campfire they've made in an empty clearing. A moment of silence passes before he offers a new suggestion of what to do with the rags when they're not scheduled to be in use.

"Perhaps you could still keep them in your underclothes," he ponders aloud. "You know. Even when you are not bleeding."

"And why would I do that?" Zuko scowls, mad that his uncle would even dare say 'bleeding' out loud. "Won't people think I'm a freak if I walk around with a bulge in my pants?"

"Sometimes, it doesn't matter so much what people see, but rather what they don't see," Uncle says, looking suddenly grave. "And if they're used to seeing a bulge between a man's legs…"

And then it clicks.

Zuko has never really thought about how his lower half may look to others before now. He never had a reason to, what with all the layered garments in the Fire Nation, then the armour on his ship, and even the thick weave he'd worn in the North Pole. After all, he'd always been most self-conscious about his upper half. Now, though, dressed in only a thin pair of shirt and trousers-

"They may make an assumption, and then try to act on said assumption," Iroh starts, clearly hesitant to voice such awful thoughts.

"What Yusu did," Zuko quietly finishes. "Or, what he tried to do."

Uncle nods. 

The Fire Nation isn't perfect. Even after centuries of stunning developments concerning the rights of women and other marginalised Fire Nationals, incidents still happen. Now, Zuko doesn't think it happens a lot, but- well, he knows, logically, that it must still happen now and then. And surely it's not the norm amongst soldiers. His people are honorable, after all. So, something… something really bad must have happened for someone to commit such a disgusting act, right?

His mind wanders back to Song.

Not that it was the assaulted person's fault! No, no, that didn't sound quite right, either. What happened with Yusu was Zuko's fault, though, because he wasn't strong enough. Other people- Zuko should have done more, but some people simply wouldn't be able to defend themselves. And that's- well, that's wrong. It’s wrong for innocent people to get hurt.

Zuko loves his countrymen. He loves the Fire Nation. Rape couldn't possibly be that common an occurrence. Even lesser-civilised people, like the Earth and Water peasants, wouldn't allow such a heinous and dishonourable act to keep happening. Right?

But… one time is still one time too many. 

Thinking about it makes his head hurt. 

And that's just the women. What about people like- people like Zuko? If there are more people like him, that is. 

There's no real name for it- not one that he's ever heard of, at least. It's not a good thing in the Fire Nation, to be what he is, but it's not like it's the worst thing, either. More challenging to navigate, maybe, and more dangerous. And that's in the Fire Nation, which is, as far as Zuko is concerned, the pinnacle of civilisation. 

Uncle… gives him an odd look when he says that last phrase, but doesn't comment on it. In a place as vast and diverse as the Earth Kingdom, Iroh speculates that some towns may be even far less accepting of Zuko's gender. "Not to mention that any attention at all could lead to the revelation of our identities," he says. 

"We could be captured," Zuko says, clenching his jaw. "Thrown in prison, or executed." 

"Or worse," Iroh murmurs, staring into the fire. And that look sends a chill down Zuko's spine.

The good news is that Iroh is apparently a member of some secret Old Man Club, which involves, but is not limited to: mysterious games of pai sho, comically-large flower pots, and passport foraging. They make it to Full Moon Bay, where ferries wait to take refugees to Ba Sing Se. Zuko cannot help but stare at his passport most of the journey there, stowed away in one of the ridiculously tall flower pots. Because in the corner, next to sex, it says male. 

That… makes him want to cry again. But instead, he laughs, light and airy, honest and genuine. Who knew that such simple characters, forged in small, black strokes of a brush, could bring him so much joy? 

For the first time in months, Zuko has hope. 

Surely only good things will come from their journey to Ba Sing Se.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detailed content warnings:
> 
> Brief implied past sexual assault: Zuko wonders if Song's burn is from a sexual assault. 
> 
> Gender dysphoria: Zuko gets his first period, and Iroh helps him cope. 
> 
> Discussion of possible sexual assault on trans character: Fucked up conversation between Zuko and Iroh on how to help Zuko pass better by packing, and perhaps 'prevent' him from transphobia and sexual assault.


	2. Beggars Can't Be Choosers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Main TWs throughout this chapter: sexual harassment, internalised homophobia/confusion over sexuality, language and actions during queer sex. More detailed content warnings in end note.
> 
> Sex scene starts when they move to a private room- skip the rest of the chapter if you don't want to read it. Brief summary of it at very end of end notes.

"You know," a voice behind him says, "as soon as I saw your scar, I knew exactly who you were."

On the ferry, Zuko encounters yet another person who deigns to judge him by the burn over his eye and the downward turn of his mouth. The difference between Jet and Song, however, is that Jet fights for what he wants. Jet does not give up.

"You're an outcast, like me," the younger boy insists, turning away from Zuko to look out at the sea. "And us outcasts have to stick together."

Needless to say, Zuko has his reservations about joining the Freedom Fighters, the stupid name being the least concerning item on the list. He refuses to join, but Jet strikes him as the kind of guy who doesn't take no for an answer.

When the Earth Kingdom boy corners him at the railing again, only this time alone and under the cover of darkness, Zuko doesn't know what to do. He can't exactly pick a fight. Too much noise, and they could draw a guard's attention. His description could be passed on. He could end up detained when they reach land, and prohibited from entering the city with his uncle. So, Zuko reigns in his vicious temper, and waits, hoping Jet will not give him a reason to wipe that infuriating smirk off the Freedom Fighter's face. 

Jet's unwanted presence has been a thorn in Zuko's side for the entirety of the ferry ride thus far. His bold and oddly-personal statements make Zuko supremely uncomfortable, not only because they're not friends, but Jet seems to ignore the quiet hostility radiating from Lee the Refugee. Jet thinks they're the same- victims of the Fire Nation!- but that couldn't be farther from the truth. And when the calculating looks turn appraising, and when the admissions of respect then into outright compliments, Zuko loses what little subtlety he began with and starts outright ignoring the younger boy. Because he doesn't know what's going on, but he doesn't care to find out.

With the nighttime expanse of sea spread out before him, and the silent presence of another human behind him, Zuko decides to set the tone of their conversation.  
"What do you want?" he hisses.

When calloused palms settle on Zuko's tense shoulders, slowly turning him around, he's greeted by a careful smile on a tanned face. Then Jet's smooth lips press against his own, the taller boy bearing down on Zuko slightly for a better angle.

Zuko gasps in surprise, and Jet takes the opportunity to introduce his tongue. 

For a moment, the firebender is frozen in shock- frozen in fear. He feels his body lock up in the very same way it had all those years, when Master Yusu had forced himself on the boy. 

But Jet isn't a master firebender. He isn't Zuko's superior. He's not even older than Zuko. Taller, more wiry, but it's clear from the way Jet speaks that he's either a little younger than Zuko, or just less mature overall. 

And Zuko isn't a child, so he doesn't have to justify any of this to himself.

The panic bleeds away. 

Zuko hasn't been a child in a very long time.

The kiss… well, it's not terrible. It feels too slimy and wet at first, but the more Jet tries to pry his mouth open, warm and wet and wanting, the more Zuko thinks he could maybe learn to like it. The fact that it's happening at all, and that Zuko's letting it happen, blindsides him. 

He should push Jet away. He should be angry. The act is intimate in a way he can't quite describe, and it's just not something Zuko particularly wants. It's another opportunity stolen from him, another rite of passage ripped from his grasp, another situation spinning out of his control. They barely know each other, and what's worse, they're both boys, which is despicable. This is not how things work. This is not how Zuko's first kiss- his first real kiss- is supposed to happen.

But he doesn't pull away. He doesn't show his surprise, or his annoyance. No, he lets Jet plunder his mouth as he offers no resistance nor reciprocation. He just takes what the other boy offers, some part of him content to claim this as his first kiss so he can forget about the last one. 

When Jet pulls back a little, that stupid smirk still sits on his face, looking a little too smug. Their eyes meet, both breathless. 

"You're really hot, Lee."

"Fuck you," Zuko growls, and he means it, because the only hot thing about him is the literal fire he can push from his body. The fog clouding his judgement has been swept away from Zuko's mind all in one dumb, thoughtless compliment. He's not going to stand here and be mocked. 

A hand brushes Zuko's side, and the firebender stiffens, sending a glare in warning. 

"Don't," he snaps, hand curling into a fist. 

Jet must take it as a challenge, though, because the look on his face only intensifies. His dark hand travels down further, fingertips brushing against the shorter boy's sash, daring gaze staring straight into Zuko's gold eyes-

Gold eyes that reflect the green he's wearing in this dim moonlight. 

Surely Jet sees scared, green eyes- a boy brought to his knees by the war, young and inexperienced, desperate for affection, and ready to be taken advantage of, again- 

This time, Zuko fights back.

In the span of a heartbeat, Zuko snatches the wrist, yanking on the younger boy to reverse their positions. Now Jet's stomach presses against the rail, his arm twisted behind his back while Zuko holds it in place. Then the Freedom Fighter just chuckles, and Zuko realises he's been played. Jet let him fight back, maybe to let the older boy feel some semblance of control. Seething at the thought, Zuko's grip tightens. 

Without warning, Jet pushes against him, firm ass grinding against Zuko's crotch. 

A little tingle of pleasure shoots up Zuko's spine when the rough cloth in his underwear rubs him in just the right way.

Zuko doesn't like Jet in any sense of the word, but he can recognise that it's been a long time since he's been able to find release with his own hand- no privacy with his uncle around, and certainly no safety for such luxuries as a refugee with too many secrets. But now Zuko is dizzy from the hot pressure against his most sensitive spot. He almost moans from the incredible friction, but he holds the sound in at the last second, because he'd rather die than encourage any lewd intentions directed towards him. It's just another way his stupid body is conspiring against his brain.

"Don't," Zuko growls, a little louder than before, and he shifts his hips away from Jet.

Surprisingly, Jet stills. After a moment, he mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, "You don't-"

"Of course I don't want to!" Zuko growls, releasing the other boy so he can jerk Jet around to face him. Getting in his face, prepared for a fight, Zuko stares him down. "What part of 'don't' do you not understand?" he practically spits, fury in his eyes. He feels betrayed, even though betrayal implies that there was once trust, and he had never really trusted Jet. 

Right?

"When I moved against you," Jet says, suddenly sober. Then his eyes flicker down, and Zuko's eyes follow, both gazes landing in the small space between them. Zuko sees the tent in Jet's pants, and takes a step back, eyes wide. 

"Your pants." Jet looks back at Zuko, eyes sharp. "You don't have a cock."

It isn't a question. 

Jet knows.

A hot flush races up Zuko's neck- shame and humiliation and rage and fear-

"Of course I have a cock," Zuko hotly argues, but he's a terrible liar, and he knows that Jet can see right through him. 

Forget the guards. Forget Ba Sing Se. If Jet so much as blinks at him wrong, Zuko will fight him. He doesn't have his swords on him, but he'll use his fire if he has to. His bare fists. He'll bite and yell and wake the whole damn ferry if it comes down to it. Because everyone knowing what he is will be better then- will be better than what might happen. What Jet might do to him. 

The thought terrifies him.

What is one more stain on his honour, one more act of cowardice, if it means self-preservation? And Zuko hates himself for thinking that, but some deeper part of him can not bear the thought of his body being taken from him.

They look at each other for a very long moment, but finally, Jet says, "I won't tell anyone."

Zuko doesn't dare move. "I don't know what you're talking about," he says, his raspy voice low and harsh. His fists are clenched so hard that his nails dig into the palms of his hand. "Of course I have a cock. I'm not- I'm not a girl. I'm not some freak!"

With a small shrug from the younger boy, Jet looks away first, saying, "I never said you were." Then he cuts his eyes at Zuko again. "It's just that you act like a guy, you know? So... I think you can be a guy without a cock just fine."

Zuko doesn't breathe. He stands tense, poised for action, but also straining hard to catch every single syllable out of Jet's mouth. 

It’s not quite what he’s always wanted to hear, but at the same time, it’s such a simple affirmation that he never knew he needed until now.

"I know someone else like that, too," Jet says, shrugging. "So, you can trust me. I won't tell anyone."

For all of Jet's flaws, he at least apparently has enough honour to stop flirting when he realises his desire isn't returned. And even more surprising is he knows Zuko's biggest secret, and he doesn't seem to even mind. He's not angry, or disgusted, or weirded out. He just accepts it. He accepts Zuko. Just like that. 

No. Zuko swallows hard, trying to push the lump in his throat down. It can't be that easy. 

Nothing is ever that easy. 

And Zuko, for all the time he's waited to hear such acceptance, can't even fully appreciate it. All he wants to do is collapse in relief, because he's still hung up on the fact that Jet is no longer trying to touch him. the younger boy might be smarmy, and pushy, and an idiot, but he's- he's not going to force it. 

Zuko doesn't get raped because he doesn't meet a rapist tonight. It's as simple as that.

It's a low, low bar as far as expectations go, but Jet meets it, and Zuko feels the slight tremor in his spine- the sting behind his eyes- start to fade. He has such an absurd instinct to feel grateful, as though he should be thanking Jet for being an actual human being. And that thought alone twists his stomach into knots.

"You know, I've never been into another guy before," Jet quietly admits. "Not until you."

The firebender blinks. 

Wait. What? 

But Jet knows.

Jet knows, and yet he still calls Zuko a guy. And he still wants Zuko.

"There's just something about you, Lee, and I…"

Zuko brushes past the other boy to reach the rail, fingers closing hard around the metal in a death grip. He closes his eyes tightly, willing his confusing thoughts to settle down.

At some point after being branded, Zuko just assumed he would never be attractive. He thought no one could ever want him in that way. This belief had only been affirmed by the variety of reactions he gets when strangers first catch sight of him- the winces, the quiet gasps, the quick shuffling of feet to avoid him. 

Jet had been bolder than most, though. He'd squarely looked at Zuko's scar at their first meeting, then at Zuko himself. The Freedom Fighter didn't draw attention to the old wound, but he didn't ignore it, either. Until, of course, he first came onto Zuko, as if comparing tragic backstories would suddenly make him want to jump into Jet's pants and join the Freedom Fighters all in one go. But that whole gang thing wasn't important right now.

Zuko doesn't even have a good body. He's so… mismatched, from what parts he was born with, to how his medicine has masculinised him, to the way his body is now slowly starting to sprout curves. And then there's the over-binding and malnutrition that have surely taken a toll on his still-growing body.

Who would ever want Zuko?

Jet, apparently. And that's... flattering, really fucking flattering. The fact that Jet is still attracted to him, even with the scar. Even with knowing about Zuko's body- that Zuko's not- well, Zuko is a boy, but maybe not in the way that most people want or expect. 

What would- what would it be like if they-

No. Zuko won't let his thoughts go there.

Same-sex relations are forbidden in the Fire Nation; yet, gender and sex aren't the same thing. Zuko wonders, for the first time, what would have happened to him had he never been banished. As a prince, he would have been expected to have heirs. But that would only happen if he was intimate with a man. 

Which would be… wrong? 

And yet, if he married a woman, he couldn't have heirs, and his bloodline would end, and he would be removed from the line of succession. His birthright would be forfeit. He would be cast out from the palace, with no name and no title, much like how he was living now. 

But being with a man would just be... wrong!

Right?

Brow furrowed, Zuko takes a moment to think. 

First and foremost, Zuko is a man. This, he knows, above all else.

Second- He was born to rule. It's his divine right, his destiny, the mandate of the spirits. To rule, he would need heirs, so he would have to… be with a man. Eventually. Even if it meant betraying the values of the Fire Nation. 

Only, those values started with Sozin, so maybe the Fire Nation wasn't always like that. 

Maybe Sozin- Maybe Sozin was wrong.

Zuko opens his eyes, jaw clenched with the pain of realisation. Because Sozin was wrong. 

That has to be it. 

Sozin was wrong to criminalise relationships with those of the same gender, sexual or otherwise, because Zuko is a man. He is a man who will have to have sex with another man someday. And Zuko's gender isn't wrong, and nature isn't wrong. So, if those things conflict with Sozin's ideology, then that means Sozin was wrong.

Sozin was wrong. The thought, as shocking as it is to discover, almost makes him want to laugh in some dazed, delirious kind of way. He never used to question that law before- never used to question his ancestors, or anything about the Fire Nation, really- but everything seems a little less black and white these days. 

Could he even- would Zuko even like being with a man? He's only ever liked girls, but Jet- Jet said he was the same way.

"Have you ever-" the words leave his mouth before he can think better of it. Still, Zuko clamps his mouth shut, a furious blush rising to his cheeks. 

"Have I ever what?" Jet asks from beside him, now facing the ocean as well, a respectable distance away. A moment passes, and then Jet presses, "Are you asking me if I've ever had sex?" 

There's a lilt in his voice- almost a laugh, almost disbelieving. 

Zuko wants to throw himself overboard. Apparently that was a stupid question. Apparently while every other teenager was off fighting and fucking, Zuko had been chasing the Avatar, and as a virgin.

"You mean, you haven't?" Jet says, voice falling slightly, surely realising how much of an asshole he's being. 

"No." The word is low in Zuko's throat, bit out harshly between teeth. It probably sounds petulant or resentful or bitter, but Zuko is only embarrassed. He's embarrassed to be having this conversation. Frustrated that it's with a stranger. Ashamed that he's even considering- reconsidering, rather- Jet's advances. Mortified that he has no prior experience, other than his own explorations of his body, which most certainly doesn't count. 

His heart is racing. This is stupid- Zuko is stupid. He shouldn't have said anything. 

But his heart also hurts, because he's lonely, and Jet wants him. Jet liked him before he knew what Zuko was packing in his pants, and he still likes him now that he knows. 

Zuko is so, so lonely, and some horrifying part of him wants to know what it's like to be that intimate with someone. To be that close, even if just for a night. 

Trust and respect and pleasure and... maybe not love, but the other things will feel good, too. They sound like they would feel good. 

And Zuko will have to do it one day. In a few years, he'll have to go all the way, with another man inside of him. The thought of pregnancy makes him want to curl up and die, but he doesn't have to be pregnant anytime soon. Right now he can just… ease into things. Test the waters. Figure out if he can even stand the idea of being with a man. 

"Do you want to?" 

Zuko whips around to look at Jet, gold eyes wide with surprise. Even with knowing where this conversation was headed, the question still takes him by surprise. 

It's happening. This… is happening. 

This is real. It's happening. 

"I can show you a few things," Jet says, voice dropping a little lower, a little more sultry. "But only if you really want me to."

Zuko's throat feels very dry. 

He shouldn't. 

He really, really shouldn't, because they're both boys, and they're strangers, and someone could catch them- 

“Do you want to?”

Zuko wants to. 

He nods.

Taking a step closer, Jet maintains eye contact with him, until their faces are so close that it's physically hard for Zuko's mismatched eyes to properly focus on the other boy's gaze. Their noses are just inches apart, heavy breaths intermingling. 

Jet doesn't kiss him, though. He gingerly takes him by the hand, steering them back towards the middle of the ferry. "Come with me," he says. "I know a place."

The room is tiny and dirty, which nags at the back of Zuko's mind, because he feels like he's much too good to be fucking in a literal storage closet. But then he remembers that he's done much more humbling things in the past few weeks. He's starved, and stolen, and bled, and lied, and slept in the dirt. He's not who he used to be. Right now he's Lee, not Zuko. Lee would absolutely fuck a stranger on the dirty floor of a peasant ship, because Lee is a very normal, very hormonal teenage boy.

Beggars can't be choosers.

"This'll work," Zuko murmurs, when Jet casts him a questioning glance. 

"Okay," Jet replies, backing Zuko up against a wall. "Just relax, then. Let me make you feel good."

Zuko's heart is suddenly ramming against his ribcage, begging to be let out. 

This. Is. Happening.

"Can I kiss you again?"

Does he want Jet to kiss him? Does he want to kiss Jet? There's a little something warm spreading through his abdomen, soaking in deep, stirring up embers in his groin, so with determined eyes and lips pressed into a thin line, Zuko just nods. 

Jet kisses him, pressing him hard against the wall, his hands settled respectfully on the shorter boy's waist. It's a little hard to breathe, maybe because of the kiss- no definitely because of the kiss. 

Jet licks at the seam of his mouth, and Zuko parts his lips, as if to ask. But Jet's tongue slides right in, deepening the kiss with so much fervour that Zuko feels like he might just be dreaming. Not knowing what else to do, he slides his own tongue into Jet's mouth, trying to copy the other boy's movements, but he knows they're clumsy with inexperience.

It must be good enough, though, because the other boy makes a satisfied sound.

"Lee," Jet groans, breaking away to fist the secondhand tunic Uncle had scored from the Old Guy Club. "Lee, I want you so bad. What do you want?"

Stiffening at the very reasonable inquiry, Zuko scowls. Before he can answer, though, Jet says, "Can I fuck you?"

Something deep inside of Zuko jerks with indignation. "No," he says, suddenly defensive. "I- No. Don't go inside me," the firebender snarls. 

Lips slick with spit and face flushed with arousal, Zuko must not look very intimidating, because Jet just smirks, like he's amused. "Alright. Then what do you want?"

Zuko shifts uncomfortably, searching desperately for all the words he was never supposed to overhear back on his ship, surrounded by crass, older men. 

"We can do… other things?" 

Other things exist, right? He knows they can do things with hands. When Zuko still had a ship- still had privacy- he used to touch himself all the time like that. And he's heard people use their mouths sometimes, too. The logistics of that, though, still confuse him a little, but it's supposed to feel good.

Instead of being disappointed, Jet looks more turned on than he should be. "Yes," he breathes, forehead resting against Zuko's. "Other things."

Zuko would be lying if he said he didn't still have some doubts about this. 

But he wants this. There's teeth nipping at his earlobe, and a real, actual person wants him, and this isn't even a dream. His body feels drawn tight with sexual tension, almost dizzy with want.

He's never really been one to think things through.

"Touch me already," Zuko demands, a little breathless.

He wants to know what it's like. He wants to know what he's been missing out on. He wants Lee to have what Prince Zuko was never, ever offered.

It's the choice of living authentically, as himself, without the fear of consequence.

It's the choice of giving himself fully to another person, without the fear of rejection.

It's a choice, and he's taking it.

Fingers find their way under Zuko's sash first, and they both end up stripping against one another, hands wandering, lips moving against each other almost frantically. Jet doesn't even try to take Zuko's binding vest off- doesn't say a word about it, thankfully. 

Jet, however, is undressed down to his beige loincloth, smooth, tan skin interrupted by dark scars and scrapes and burns. His shoulders are strong and broad, with his torso slimming down where it meets a boxy waist. Short hairs start just above his navel, inching down his abdomen, growing thicker as it creeps underneath his loincloth and over the insides of his muscular thighs. All of this only seem to direct Zuko's gaze. Golden eyes flit down the other boy's body, drawn instinctively towards a very obvious erection.

Zuko doesn't like boys, yet he likes the way Jet's looking at him, hungry eyes roaming over his clothed form when Jet is the one nearly nude. He likes the way Jet is all hard lines and sharp angles and planes of taut, wiry muscle. He likes the sight of Jet's cock trying to break free of its fabric cage, Zuko's fascination with the organ so endless that he wonders what it would be like to actually touch one-

The line between admiration and attraction quickly bleed into each other, and- 

Fuck.

And Zuko doesn't quite know if he wants to be Jet, or be with Jet, or both.

"Take a seat, Lee," the younger boy says, dipping down to his knees before running his hands up Zuko's bare calves. Pale legs are dotted with goosebumps where his soft hair is tickled by Jet's fingers, every nerve set alight with the slightest touch.

The firebender allows himself to be tugged down, reclining on the floor with his upper back against the wall. Calloused hands rub up and down his thighs, getting so close to that deep, deep throbbing. Then Jet's hands are slowly pulling down Zuko's underwear, exposing more and more fair skin with each passing second. 

And Zuko is so damn nervous. But he's a little too dazed with the attention of an experienced lover to even consider stopping Jet. 

Now bare from the waist down, his legs tremble when Jet's hands come to rest on his light knees, slowly spreading his legs apart for a better look. The cool air brushes against Zuko's excitement, making him shiver a little. He's a little ashamed to admit it, but the position turns him on, knowing that his sex is on full display for the first time in his life, legs spread wide like some kind of whore. But the scandalous posture only makes him feel powerful- powerful in a way that he's never felt before.

Jet's tongue darts out to wet his lips, taking a long, thirsty look at everything Zuko has to offer him. He looks close to pouncing on the firebender, and Zuko can't help but crave it. 

His body is driving Jet crazy, and that's a powerful, heady feeling that settles low in his abdomen, warming every part of him that's already on the verge of overheating. 

This is his body. He's hated it for so long, and for so many reasons, but… it's his. It's the only one he has. Sure, he's still very self-conscious, and embarrassed by all the attention, but he loves the rush of lust arcing through his spine. He loves the reaction he's getting. He loves being seen, and heard, and wanted-

Virginity is a complicated tether. The thought of sex inevitably brings up the thought of the event leading up to his burn and his banishment. 

If he's going to give this part of himself away- well, he's going to give it away on his own terms, and to someone of his choosing. This body is a tool, and Zuko will gladly make use of it tonight.

"You're so fucking hot," comes the low reply. 

Zuko... is glad to hear that.

This is his body. It's not the body he wants, but it's his, and he will not be ashamed. This body will make him feel good tonight. This body will make him forget.

Head held a little higher, Zuko taunts the other boy. "You seem to be staring more than touching. Do I have something on my face?"

Jet's wicked laugh makes him squirm a little, and he has to resist the urge to rub his thighs together. He can feel the slick dripping down to his ass, already forming a wet spot beneath him, and it takes all of his willpower to not try and grind down against the floor like a bitch in heat.

The Freedom Fighter dives in for a kiss, and they both end up panting into each other's mouths. Then Jet goes lower, kissing down creamy white skin, lower and lower, before sucking on the crook of the other boy's neck. 

Zuko gasps when a lazy fingertip slides against him, parting him down there to collect the most obvious evidence of his arousal. 

"You're so fucking wet," Jet moans, and Zuko flushes. "Your cute little pussy is soaked just for me."

"Don't say things like that," the firebender hisses, anger flaring at Jet's choice of words. "I'm not- don't say that!" 

"Okay, okay," the other boy relents, still grinning stupidly. He then cups his entire hand over Zuko's genitals, massaging the area ever so carefully. Zuko tries to stifle a moan, but Jet's breath hitches, clearly having heard it. "So, what do you want me to call this?"

The firm touch sends his back arching, short, soft pubic hair tickling his sensitive skin with every twitch of Jet's hand. 

Licking his lips, Zuko mumbles, "At the top- it's, um, my- my cock." It feels so awkward to say these things out loud, but better to get this out of the way then have the mood again ruined later, he supposes. "Everything else," Zuko shrugs a little, averting his eyes. "I don't know. My hole." He flushes more at that last, quieter admission, briefly looking away. He has to call it something, though. 

"Mm, I love your cock already," Jet says, flicking its exposed tip with his thumb. The back of Zuko's head hits the wall as his hips jerk away, the direct touch so good but at the same time, too painfully sensitive right now. "So big and pink and ready for me."

"Spirits," Zuko curses, slapping Jet's arm away. He glares at Jet. "You're so fucking embarrassing!"

Jet laughs. "It's true, though," he says. "I love your body. Your strong, sexy body."

"Don't you have other things to do with that mouth of yours?" the blushing boy beneath him scowls. "Stop talking. Kiss me or something!"

"Or something?" A devious tone of voice. 

And Zuko doesn't understand until suddenly Jet pitches forward, down, between parted legs and-

A rather loud, broken cry leaves Zuko's throat, but he doesn't even care, because Jet's mouth is on him, licking every inch, lapping at the underside of his cock with a rather long tongue. Fingers rise up to touch a little lower, parting the way for Jet's mouth to travel lower. His flesh makes squelching noises as Jet wrings more clear juices from him, the shine coating the younger boy's entire jaw with every lewd noise. Breath hitching again from a suckle on a particularly sensitive spot, Zuko reaches down, weaving his hands through Jet's messy hair, desperate to keep the more experienced boy in place. 

A warm tongue darts inside him, teasing the hole with quick and shallow thrusts, and then when Jet returns to his cock, Zuko is a quivering mess, panting, absolutely broken and loose and unraveling. His legs tremble as Jet throws each knee over his shoulders, the younger boy burying his face completely. Hands reach around to grab Zuko's pale ass and pull him deeper into Jet's talented mouth, with Jet slurping like a starving man. He groans into the soft, wet flesh, clearly enjoying himself. 

Back arching at an impossible angle, Zuko can feel himself approaching the finish line in a record-breaking amount of time. 

And Zuko shakes, he shakes all over, and he's so taut, about to snap, about to share himself so completely with someone for the very first time, and- and-

He comes hard, strong thighs trapping his partner in place, an embarrassingly loud moan ripping from his throat, almost verging on a whine. His toes curl, and his face tingles as a fierce shiver runs up his body like lightning. It's the most intense orgasm he's ever experienced, and it seems to go on forever as Jet swallows down every drop of his release. 

Zuko is pretty sure he's lost his fucking mind.

Once his convulsions subside a little, the contact veers sharply into oversensitive territory, and Zuko wiggles out of Jet's hold. the younger boy acquiesces, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. 

Stretching out on the floor, Zuko's limbs feel heavy and relaxed and limp as he struggles to catch his breath. Even the stickiness between his legs only seems to soothe the heat dissipating from his core, and he looks up through lidded eyes to see Jet shucking off his last piece of clothing.

Zuko has never seen a penis in real life. He's seen them in scrolls, and he knows, in theory, what they're supposed to look like, but this is remarkably different. 

It's ugly and pulsing and just plain weird, especially with the lumpy sack beneath, but he can't look away. His gaze is drawn like a spider-moth to a flame. Part of it is a simple curiosity, but a much bigger part is an overwhelming sense of jealousy. 

If Zuko had a cock, what would his look like? 

He tries to shake the thought from his head, everything from guesses about size and colour and-

"My turn."

And that's when Zuko knows. As soon as the words come out of Jet's mouth, Zuko knows he doesn't want to do this. He might like cocks, but he suddenly knows, with absolute certainty, that he wouldn't like one in his mouth. 

Jet… is rather frustrated by this revelation.

After failing to convince Zuko to blow him, Jet settles for walking Zuko through a hand job, and he finishes in the firebender's palm with a gasp. Hand grossly sticky, Zuko makes a face without thinking, and Jet laughs. 

"Yeah, sorry," the younger boy pants, guiding Zuko's wrist to the wall to help him wipe the semen off. "It's kind of a lot."

Zuko makes a small grunt in agreement, and just awkwardly stands there for a moment. "Um," he says. "Thanks. I guess."

"You don't really thank people for sex," Jet informs him, with a stupidly smug. "But you're very, very welcome, Lee."

At the sound of his fake name, Zuko's pliant form goes rigid. He's suddenly very aware of the countless other things he's been keeping from Jet, though he doesn't really know why. Regardless, he bolts upright, reaching for his underwear. Jet just sits there, dark cock growing half-hard again from watching Zuko pull his clothes on.

Once fully dressed, Zuko clears his throat and says quite awkwardly, "I should find my uncle. He's probably looking for me."

"Yeah," Jet says, lazily reaching for his loincloth. He still has that damned look on his face, and Zuko doesn't know if he wants to punch or kiss it from the other boy. "I'll see you around."

As it turns out, Zuko likes sex. Like, a lot. His underwear grows sticky again at the thought of his fresh memories, precum already dribbling out again at the possibility of someone's hands on him. Someone's mouth. 

When he nearly slams into his uncle from behind- because he was not at all paying attention like he should have been, mind too fogged from his recent climax and the thoughts of a future encounter- he scowls.

What the fuck is he doing? 

That's… that's the Lee in him talking. Lee the Refugee, a stupid, hormonal teenager.

Zuko doesn't like how much the lines between Lee and Zuko are blurring.

For the remainder of the ferry ride, he tries to pretend like that night with Jet never happened, but Jet is so damn obvious, not even trying to hide the chemistry between them. Throughout the rest of the journey, the stares Zuko receives drill through the back of his head, dangerous and sultry and somehow thrilling, all at the same time. When Jet asks one last time, after they reach the port at Ba Sing Se, crowded into the train station for entry into the city, the desire to be desired urges Zuko to bite back the urge to say something unbefitting of a prince. 

"Can I… see you again, Lee?"

A few feet away, Longshot and Smellerbee watch, faces impassive as if they had already been briefed on the situation- which, spirits, Jet! He needs to keep his damned mouth closed if he knows what's good for him. Zuko looks to his uncle, but the old man has seated himself nearby with a suspiciously steaming cup of tea, not paying mind to any of them. His eyes flicker back to Jet, whose gaze is still thankfully focused on Lee the Refugee. 

"I'll think about it." 

And maybe he will. 

The charming smirk spreading across Jet's face makes the other teen uneasy, and he almost immediately wants to take his words back. Even as Jet turns away to grin stupidly at his friends, Zuko quickly ushers his Uncle onto the next train, so that Jet can't follow him. Because there's something unsettling about people who are just too charming- too charismatic.

Too Azula.

He dreams of his sister later that night- their first night in the impenetrable city. 

He turns over on his sleeping mat. He ignores his uncle's snores beside him, focused on trying to get some rest, but sleep evades him now. 

They made it. They're in Ba Sing Se. Now what? They live the rest of their lives as lowly tea servers, doomed to mediocrity and poverty? Or will they be sitting turtle ducks when the war finally does reach Ba Sing Se? Somehow, that thought doesn't lull him into slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detailed content warnings:
> 
> Sexual harassment: unwanted flirting, hand on hip, brief grinding, one kiss. 
> 
> Internalised homophobia/confusion over sexuality: Zuko tries to convince himself it's not alright to like boys, but maybe he has to in order to have heirs one day, and then he absolutely finds himself attracted to Jet. 
> 
> Language and actions during queer sex: Jet says "wet" and "pussy" and Zuko is not having it, his preferred words are "cock" and "hole;" Jet gives Zuko oral sex, and Zuko gives Jet a handjob (this last one is pressured).
> 
> -
> 
> Sex scene summary: 
> 
> Jet performs oral sex on Zuko, and Zuko gives Jet a handjob. Then they all make it to Ba Sing Se.


	3. He Is What He Hides

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Main TWs throughout this chapter: Brief talk of oral sex on a trans male character.

He has a lot of sleepless nights in Ba Sing Se. While he has a slight suntan from time spent traversing the Earth Kingdom, he feels more disconnected from his element than ever, having to resist the urge to practice his firebending. As tired as he is, it often keeps him up at night, feeling his inner flame bubbling up, desperate for relief. As much as it hurts him to not be able to expel the extra energy from his body, he knows it's for the best. He knows it's for their safety, and that's why he hates it all the more. 

Jin takes him to the fountain, her brown-green eyes are crestfallen when they see it's dark. And then he just can't resist. 

"Close your eyes," he says. "And no peeking," he adds with a stern look. 

She looks a little bemused, puzzled, as well, but she relents easily. Once he's sure her eyes are fully covered by her hands, Zuko takes a deep breath. He's grown in the months since they've been on the run, and his binding vest no longer fits him very well. The ache of such a constricting garment would usually frustrate him to no end, but right now, he welcomes it. The pain in his chest grounds him- distracts him from just how heartbreaking it is to feel his chi flow so quickly after repressing it for so long. It's not perfect, but it's there, and that makes it so amazingly close to perfect.

The movements jump back to his limbs without effort, wired into his brain from years of strict lessons. It feels incredible to bend again, the shakes and the headaches from keeping it all inside of him fade a little as fire finally flicks from his fingertips in rapid succession. 

When he's done, he pauses for a moment. He really shouldn't be doing this, this is dangerous, someone could see-

Zuko vaguely remembers his father once telling Azula that only the best of firebenders can find beauty in the danger of flames. He knows his father hadn't quite meant it like this, but still, the fountain is breathtaking. He can see why Jin wanted him to see it. 

"Okay," he whispers. "You can look now."

Her grin is worth it. Her face lights up, and even though the earlier portion of their evening could be categorised as a complete disaster, he knows he'll remember this forever. He hopes she will, too.

The firelight reflects off of her eyes, and if he squints, he can almost imagine he's back home in the Fire Nation, standing next to Ty Lee in one of the palace courtyards. A wide grin, a full heart, and a burning passion for life. 

Jin… is a person. That should have been obvious before, and it was, but the realisation feels different now. 

Jin matters. She's not Fire Nation, but her life still matters.

"Oh, Lee," she gushes, turning to him with warm eyes. "How did you-?" 

He manages a small smile.

She steps closer. And closer. 

The smile falters, then fades. He begins to sweat, a few stray droplets racing down his back, between his shoulder blades to disappear down his trousers. He's not exactly nervous, but, well Ty Lee's never looked at him like this. This is something new, something like what he had with Jet but definitely different. It doesn't scare him, because Zuko doesn't get scared, but it does make him a little wary.

Jin's eyes glance down to his lips, and suddenly he's shoving a coupon in her face. Like the idiot he is, Zuko prattles on about free tea, because he doesn't know quite what to do now that she's leaning in, just inches from his face. He wants her closer, and farther; here, and also gone. He wants to get to know her better, and he also wishes he could just never see her ever again. It's all so confusing, but she's kind enough to just smile and nod, pretending not to notice how he's suddenly turned into a rambling mess.

"This is so sweet," she says, taking the coupon with gentle fingers. "Now, I have something for you. Close your eyes."

He looks at her suspiciously. Why does she need him to close his eyes? His brain supplies an answer, but he doesn't quite believe it- doesn't know that it could ever happen to him. Once was traumatic. Twice was a fluke. A third time is just impossible for someone like him.

Does she find him attractive? Does she mind his scar? He recalls his night with Jet quite vividly, how hot and sensual and wanted he'd felt. 

It's… maybe not impossible to think that she could want him, too.

He closes his eyes.

The slightest bit of pressure appears against his lips, her soft mouth pressing a chaste kiss against his own. It's so different from Jet's kiss, so much sweeter and more tender. She's soft and warm and dry, and a little something loosens in his chest. When she pulls away after a moment, his instincts scream at him to chase her mouth back, so he does, initiating a second kiss, just as short and basic as the first, but then he lingers, and-

And then he realises what he's doing, and he turns abruptly to break the tentative embrace. Jin only gets a half-assed apology before he bolts, running back down the block to his apartment complex. 

His heart races. He just kissed a girl. It's not even his first kiss, but it's the first to make his head spin.

Zuko just kissed a girl.

And it's absolutely not fair to Jin. She likes Lee. Not Zuko. She doesn't know the real him, and he can't keep lying to her. But he can't tell her the truth, either. It's not fair, but Zuko already knows that life isn't fair, and that it'll never be fair for him. 

Suddenly, that's all he wants, though. All he wants is a break- some slack. What if he really could just wait tables and kiss girls and be a normal guy? 

The answer comes readily, though. He'll never be a normal guy.

"You don't think about me?"

Eyes wide at the voice, Zuko stops suddenly, whirling around to face Jet. the younger boy has a stupid stalk of wheat in his mouth, leaning casually against the side of an apartment building, as if he hadn't been following Zuko around just moments earlier.

"Were you spying on me?" the firebender demands, stalking towards his stalker. He's still a little shorter than Jet, and he hates how he has to glare up at him. 

"You didn't answer me," Jet says cooly, cutting his eyes sideways at the approaching firebender.

"I don't owe you anything," Zuko snaps, tired of the games. "Tell me what you want from me, or get lost."

"I want you," Jet says, finally turning to fully face the other boy. He pushes off from the building he's leaning against, and steps closer to Zuko as the older boy comes to a surprised stop.

"W-what?"

"I want you," Jet murmurs, raising one hand to touch Zuko's unscarred cheek. A dark thumb brushes over light skin, as he says, "I didn't like seeing you with that girl. But I do like seeing you."

And as if a switch has been flipped, Zuko's reservations about dating melt away. His shoulders relax minutely, and his jaw slackens, as he recalls their intimate encounter on the ferry. 

"If you don't want me- if you don't want all of me- you can still have my body," the Freedom Fighter continues in a whisper, leaning in close. "You think you're so complicated, Lee. Let's uncomplicate it."

"What are you talking about?" Zuko whispers back, head a little fogged by the other boy's close proximity. Their faces are just inches from one another, and the hot breath on his face is doing things to Zuko. It's stirring something very familiar in his abdomen.

"We both have needs," Jet explains, voice low and patient. "We can just take care of them together."

"It's not that simple," Zuko argues, but it's so hard to say no when he can feel the warmth of Jet's body heat so close.

"You were a virgin before, weren't you?" Jet says, and Zuko stiffens, gritting his teeth in an effort to not yell. At this, Jet laughs, but not at him. Instead he says, "I get it. Believe me, I get it, Lee. You got a taste, and you can't stop craving it, right?"

"And if you were right?" Zuko huffs, trying to calm his frustration. He's frustrated at Jet, and frustrated at himself for wanting Jet. He's frustrated because it's true, Zuko had sex exactly one time and now he can't stop thinking about it. "What does that mean?"

"It means," Jet says, finally closing the last bit of distance between them, "that I'm gonna eat you alive. Lick you open, fuck you with my tongue, make you come in my mouth. Keep you there until you're begging me for more."

"I don't beg," is Zuko's quiet but adamant response. And if he's being honest with himself, it's his only complaint with the picture Jet has so vividly painted for him. 

As if thinking the same thing, Jet just grins.


	4. I Like My Body When It Is With Your Body

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skip this entire chapter if you don't want to read the sex scene. Brief summary in end note.
> 
> Main TWs throughout chapter: Trans male character shirtless, language and acts during queer sex. Detailed content warnings in end note.

It doesn't take long to get to Jet's apartment. In fact, he lives fairly close to the apartment Zuko and Iroh share, and Zuko notes the name on the decrepit sign out front in case he needs to find this place again. 

Clothes are shoved off as soon as the door is closed behind them. They barely make it into Jet's bedroom before they're both standing in their underwear, panting into each other's mouths. When Jet pulls away to shuck off his loincloth, a sudden boldness strikes Zuko. If they're going to do this again- going to do this on a regular basis- then maybe-

Before he can change his mind, he quickly pulls off his binding vest. The relief is instant. The ache around his shoulders is suddenly lifted, faint now that the too-small garment is no longer trying to compress his growing form. His chest is free, nipples already hardening from the cool, damp air. At the sound of the thick fabric hitting the floor, Jet looks up, then suddenly freezes. Zuko can feel how impossibly red his face is, and he glares at Jet, as if daring the other boy to make one wrong move. 

He hopes he won't regret this.

Jet's eyes are hooded with lust, and he crowds Zuko up against the wall before pressing their lips together once more, careful to leave a little space between their bodies. And Zuko soon finds out why.

A warm hand makes contact with the underside of one pec, and the sudden touch makes the older boy jump, breaking off the kiss with a gasp.

Zuko hasn't fondled this part of himself in a very long time. He used to, back when his chest was small enough to seemingly disappear when on his back, but now it seems like the absence of touch has only made the area much more sensitive. But it's nice, the way Jet's long fingers press into his flesh, slowly kneading it, and he starts to press filthy, open-mouthed kisses down Zuko's jaw and neck. Then Jet is going lower, stooping slightly to lick into the hollow of Zuko's neck. the younger boy is hunched over now, sucking at the skin below a sharp collarbone.

Zuko cries out as warm lips wrap around one nipple, sucking hard once, then gently tugging with teeth before licking the sting away with confident strokes of a tongue. It feels so good, too good, alarmingly good. Jet takes both pecs in his hands and squeezes, softly at first and then harder and harder when it becomes very apparent that Zuko likes it rough, head thrown back in ecstasy. 

"You like that?" Jet murmurs, tongue darting out to flick the other dark peak. 

"Ah," Zuko breathes, unable to truly voice his pleasure. "Mmm, Jet-!"

And Jet doesn't disappoint. He takes turns suckling at Zuko's nipples, with the unattended bud being rolled and pinched between a thumb and forefinger while it waits for the attention of Jet's mouth.

With his hard nipples pleasantly flushed and sore, Zuko threads his fingers through Jet's hair, trying to drag Jet back when the younger boy starts to drift away. But it seems Jet has other ideas he wants to move on to.

"Damn, wanna suck other parts of you, Lee," comes the hushed response, and sure enough, Zuko feels his undershorts being tugged down to his ankles. 

Jet's thumbs spread him open, enough so that when he takes a long lick over Zuko's front hole, the older boy jerks into the motion with a moan. He's already soaking wet, the slick easily smearing across Jet's chin as the younger boy dives in. And before Zuko knows it, he's got one leg resting on Jet's shoulder, hands desperately keeping light brown hair in place while Jet sucks his firm cock into a hot, damp mouth. 

When Zuko finally gets home, he storms past his uncle, ignoring the man's polite questioning. He slams the thick screen to their shared bedroom shut, but pauses. 

Zuko is a 16-year-old boy, and he doesn't do feelings. Or rather, he's not very good at expressing his feelings. Right now he's acting angry. Besides the alarming numbness that's slowly been creeping upon him in recent years, anger is the only thing he remembers how to feel anymore. And if he's not distracted by lust, he needs to feel something- anything other than the dangerous void that's threatening to swallow him whole.

His night, while initially angst-ridden with his conflicted thoughts on dating Jin, had taken an easier turn upon reuniting with Jet. It was just sex, the boys had agreed. So, why does Zuko feel torn over leaving right after they both finished? It's not as though he wanted to actually spend time with Jet. What would they even talk about? All they know about each other is that both boys are here to start a new life, which probably means not digging into their painful pasts. And it's not as if Zuko has any real social skills to fall back on.

So, he's angry, even if he can't quite put into words why. However, he does know, deep down, that his uncle doesn't deserve such callous treatment. Iroh doesn't deserve the bratty facade Zuko always keeps firmly wrapped around himself.

Delicately, Zuko slides the door back open, just a bit. His throat feels a little rough from his first attempt at using his mouth on Jet's cock, but he manages to get the words out anyway, voice small and soft.

"It was nice."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summary of sex scene: Zuko and Jet hook up again, both performing oral sex on each other, with the implication that it will be a regular occurrence. Zuko figures out he can use sex as a coping mechanism for depression.
> 
> -
> 
> Detailed content warnings:
> 
> Trans male character shirtless: Happens during sex, and includes chest play.
> 
> Language and acts during queer sex: As Zuko becomes more sexually experienced and comfortable in his body, his sense of what language is alright for him changes. For example, he's warming up to the idea of being referred to as "wet."


	5. Destiny is a Funny Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Main TWs throughout the chapter: derogatory mentions of specific sex acts. Detailed content warning in end note.

The days pass uneventfully. Even as Iroh is offered his very own teashop, Zuko is only marginally more well-adjusted. A few months ago, he would've scoffed at the idea of doing such demeaning work. They're royalty, after all. He still thinks they shouldn't be ordering him around like a pack ostrich horse, or snapping at him about his attitude, or telling him he's too ugly to be in customer service with a scarred up face like that. And they should be downright thankful that the worst he's ever done to the rudest of his customers has been to throw their hot leaf juice at them, because, "How would you like a scar to match?" 

That's what makes this job demeaning. Not the fact that people don't treat him like royalty, but that people treat him like the dirt beneath their feet. He's starting to understand that he doesn't deserve respect just because of his lineage, or his former status, or his power. He deserves respect because he's a human being. 

He will learn respect, and suffering will be his teacher. As if getting half his face burned off, and then being banished wasn't enough of a lesson. What a fucking prophecy.

A small part of him wonders why he still respects his father so much- if that respect is deserved. Just the thought feels like a betrayal, because that's his father, his Fire Lord, and of course Ozai deserves his respect. And the notion that he's even questioning this- that he clearly hasn't learned anything real about respect. Some days, it takes all his strength just to get out of bed.

Even as a large part of his life only becomes more and more depressing, his time with Jet has been known to help him cut loose and forget himself for a while. The younger boy frequents the tea shop most afternoons, when business is slow. He distracts Zuko with long looks cast across the small service area, and suggestive comments when Zuko actually demands that he order something or leave. If Iroh notices anything odd about the two, he doesn't say anything. In private, he only expresses his joy that Zuko has made a friend.

Jet will sometimes wait around the back of Pao's Family Tea Shop, ready to lead Zuko to his place when the work day is over. The walk there is always nice, filled with soft words and, on Zuko's part, still-shy looks. It feels wrong to be so outwardly affectionate with another boy, in the very way Jet has no qualms about, but perhaps it's just a cultural difference. This is okay where Jet is from, and it's okay where they are now.

And he likes it. Zuko likes how Jet makes him feel like the only other person in Ba Sing Se, even when they're moving down a crowded street, fingers just barely brushing against each other as they walk. Jet makes him forget who he is and isn't, in all the best ways. Jet makes him feel wanted, like he's something precious, as if he deserves to be treated with care. 

Jet comforts him on the days when his battle between sex and gender, body and mind, overwhelms him. Jet holds him when he has a nightmare, because he can tell that Zuko is touch-starved beneath his prickly exterior. Jet knows him. Jet just gets him.

Their fucking doesn't feel as frantic nowadays. It's still passionate, but slower, and more gentle, as though they have all the time in the world. They take their time to experiment with different positions, trying to figure out how each boy most likes giving and receiving head. They go at it multiple times in a night now, taking turns lavishing attention on one another, discovering how a kiss, or a bite, or a flick of the tongue in a certain place can drive their partner wild. And Zuko loves it. He loves feeling like he's someone worthy of all this attention and affection. But when all is said and done, the thought of whispered praise in his ear and hands caressing his sensitive hip bones makes Zuko feel guilty. He looks back on these memories and feels weak for indulging himself, and yet he's drawn back to Jet like a magnet every time the other boy comes to collect him. 

He and Uncle have grown complacent- too content to live in mediocrity. How could Zuko have ever thought he could be normal? That he could ever escape his past, and start anew? 

He isn't Lee. He's Zuko. He's Crown Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation.

Prince Zuko, down on his knees, licking his way up a fat cock. Prince Zuko, on all fours, with a peasant's fingers deep inside him. Prince Zuko, who allows himself to be kissed and cuddled and held in the moments after, naked chest firmly pressed up against another boy.

What the fuck is Zuko thinking? If he's found, he'll be killed. And if his secret is found out- something worse than death, maybe. All the shame and guilt he hadn't even known he'd grown up with bubbles to the surface, prepared to boil over at any moment. 

Whatever this thing with Jet is, it won't last. And it won't end well, that much is certain. Nothing ever ends well for Zuko.

He's exhausted when he starts walking home this particular night. His legs still feel like jelly, tingling in all the right ways. And if Zuko has to pause in his pace now and then to steady himself after tripping over his own feet, that's nobody's business but his.

He's gathering his balance in an empty street, thinking about Jet's skilled mouth, when a shadow passes over him- a piece of paper falling from the sky. It floats easily, intermittently blocking out the sun. With a frustrated noise, Zuko snatches the flyer from the air, annoyed at having his moment of reflection so rudely interrupted. And then he reads it, and he can't breathe.

The Avatar is in Ba Sing Se. 

The Avatar is here. 

It's destiny- it has to be. The Avatar lives in the Upper Ring, and that's where Zuko and Uncle are moving. It all makes sense now. They won't be moving for another week or so by the sound of it, but Zuko doesn't think he can wait that long.

He can get a headstart. 

He can find the bison, and then- well, he can figure out the rest afterwards.

He stares at the poster, then scans the sky, searching for any lingering glimpses of the Avatar on that damned glider of his.

Zuko is so much more than just a teenage boy. He doesn't have time for tea or sex or whatever regular teenage boys do.

Zuko was born into Fire Nation royalty, and-

As a Fire National, Zuko owes his allegiance to the crown- to his-

There's a lump in his throat, and he swallows hard, but it doesn't budge. He can capture the Avatar's bison, and maybe lure the Avatar out, too. He doesn't even know where to find the bison, but he'll figure it out. He always does. He'll have to figure it out, because he has to capture the Avatar, because he has to go home. 

If he pushes Jet to the back of his mind for a moment, there's really nothing else for him here. He is no one, and has nothing. And this opportunity has quite literally fallen out of the sky. It has to be fate. 

His destiny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detailed content warning:
> 
> Derogatory mentions of specific sex acts: Zuko thinking of how others would view him if they knew he gives oral sex to Jet, or likes to be fingered.


	6. The Only Constant in Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Main TWs throughout the chapter: brief dream involving rape, language referring to anatomy. Detailed content warnings in end notes.

He doesn't sleep that night. The bison is free, but Zuko is trapped.

Something cold wipes at his forehead. 

"-you will be the beautiful prince you were always meant to be," someone murmurs. The voice is familiar, but he can't place it.

A red and a blue dragon speak to him, only he doesn't have a scar, and he's so, so thirsty. But then he's the Avatar, with blue arrows running down his bared skin, and- and he screams, and-

And more dreams. More nightmares. He sees Avatar Roku, except Zuko isn't trying to capture the Avatar for some reason, so they only talk. Not that he can remember anything the man says.

He sees his mother. He sees his father. He sees his mother and his father together, looking so young and happy, curled into each other on the clean beaches of Ember Island, and that's perhaps the strangest dream of all. 

Until, of course, he dreams of the red and blue dragon again. 

Wait. Again? Has he seen them before?

These dragons are swirling around in the open sky, over an impressively high platform, and two tiny figures seem to be mimicking their movements across the stone. Someone makes a sarcastic comment about dancing, except Zuko doesn't dance, because dancing is stupid. Then, there's a golden egg, and a baby dragon, and suddenly Zuko is so happy that maybe he could dance if he really, really tried.

He also dreams of skilled hands on his thighs, delicate kisses landing on his stomach. Somewhere between his legs, Jet's voice tells him he's beautiful, tells him he's good, tells him he's worth it. And while Jet had never said these exact things, in his fever-addled state, Zuko can't tell these falsely-created memories apart from the real ones. He can feel the clear warmth running between his thighs, and he squirms a little on his sleeping mat, eager for Jet to spoil him. That is, until the voice speaking to him drops almost an entire octave, gaining a heavy quality found only in the voice of older men. Then the haze sours, and his legs are violently wrenched apart to expose his suddenly-dry hole. All his arousal is gone, replaced only with an all-consuming fear. He feels frozen, unable to move, unable to speak, and he can only watch in horror as Master Yusu drops his pants, a big, foreign erection bobbing out. Zuko is spread wide for the pervert to see every inch of his most intimate body part. On display, is where Zuko very carefully shaves every few days. On display, is the place his fingers enter nearly every day, when he's too restless and horny to fall asleep. On display is a place that belongs to Zuko- a place he shares with Jet.

Now, however, Zuko feels shame and embarrassment flush his skin. He wants to object, wants to protest even if he knows it won't make a difference, but he can't, because his throat is so parched. Bruising hands wrap around his ankles, prying his legs up and out.

He feels only pain as something big and hard forces itself inside. It hurts- it burns like fire. The tears running down the sides of his temple sting like disinfectant on an open wound. He can feel a sharp pain inside his lower belly, as if Master Yusu is too deep, like the man is trying to break into his very womb. Zuko's slim body is ravaged- used and abused roughly, and without his consent. Then hot liquid floods him, and he's burning from the inside out, his organs are melting as the acidic semen melts through every single part of him-

And he's dying, he's dying, he's dying-

He has a lot of stupid dreams, and some stupid nightmares, too, but he forgets every single one of them as soon as they morph into something new.

The next time he wakes, he isn't the same. He feels a little brighter, a little calmer. He sways as Iroh helps him sit up, but he doesn't protest as the old man wipes him down with a wet wash rag, gathering the sweat from his forehead, underneath his arms, and the stretch of exposed skin between his binder and his undershorts. Because he knows Uncle would never hurt him. He knows Uncle is just worried. 

The old man helps him drink from the wooden pail a foot away, and Zuko thanks him in a voice hoarse from disuse. He grows stronger throughout the day, and can stand and dress with help. By the next day, he wakes up with a clear head.

Iroh is stirring something on the stove when Zuko leaves their bedroom for the first time in days. 

"What's that smell?"

Uncle looks up, giving him a small smile as he sees how well Zuko looks. "Oh, it's just jook. I'm sure you wouldn't like it."

Sniffing the air once more, Zuko takes a bowl from their small, secondhand table. "Actually, it smells delicious," he says, surprising even himself. "I'd love a bowl, Uncle."

With a careful look in his eye, Iroh serves his nephew. "Now that your fever is gone, you seem different somehow," he mentions, but Zuko can't quite place his tone of voice. He supposes it doesn't matter, though. "It's a new day. We've got a new apartment to move into tomorrow, new furniture- new mats to sleep on. And today's still the grand opening of your new tea shop, right?"

A tentative nod. "I was actually thinking about postponing it for another day. I wasn't sure if you would be up for such a busy day, considering-"

Zuko shakes his head even as he accepts the bowl back from Uncle. "No, I can handle it, Uncle. I feel better," he says. "Things are looking up."

He starts on his jook, but looks up when he notices Uncle still looking at him. He gets a smile, and gives one in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detailed content warnings:
> 
> Brief dream involving rape: Zuko has a nightmare that Yusu succeeded in assaulting him.
> 
> Language referring to anatomy: Again, Zuko's language is evolving. This is the last content warning for this in the story. This time, Iroh calls Zuko "beautiful," the word "womb" is mentioned, and also a reference to fingering/masturbation.


	7. Life's a Game Made for Everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter is a sex scene.
> 
> Main TW throughout this chapter: vaginal sex.

It should scare him, the way Jet is leaning over him, but all Zuko can do is look down the other boy's bare body, broad shoulders to toned stomach to the heavy cock between his thighs. 

The first finger feels nice. Zuko is so, so ready for it, body eagerly sucking Jet in, and it feels so much better than any of the times he's been fingered before, either by himself or by Jet. And Jet's gotten really good at learning his body- all the right ways to tease him, leave him soaking wet and aching for more. And now Jet is slipping in and out at just the right depth while they kiss, long and slow and deep.

The second finger hurts at first, like it always does. It jabs into him all wrong, but Zuko takes it. He knows he needs to be stretched- knows it will only hurt worse later if they don't do this properly, so he shifts his hips, subtly trying to find an angle where his body will open up further. It would probably help if he could actually relax, too, but that's just not going to happen. He's always wound too tight, tension carried in every single part of his body. He's a fighter, and his body is always ready for battle. That's why he's so tense and tight and quiet.

Also, he's nervous.

Really, really nervous.

"You're so wet for me," Jet mumbles, forcing an obscene, squelching sound from between Zuko's thighs. The older boy is briefly mortified, completely red-faced to know that his body could make such an embarrassing noise, but Jet only revels in the look on his face. 

"You're a menace," Zuko hisses out between gritted teeth, but they both know his anger is just a front at this point. He's annoyed that Jet knows exactly how to make him blush every time without fail, but he'd only be genuinely mad if Jet actually listened to him and stopped making those lewd comments. Because part of Zuko kind of likes the humiliation- not that he'd ever say it out loud, but Jet definitely already knows.

"You're so, so tight," comes the smooth reply, because Jet is never anything but smooth. "Can't wait to feel you clenching around my cock."

Jet crooks his fingers a little, slipping in deeper. The dirty talk must have done the trick, because Zuko's body lets it enter in just the right way. Suddenly, the fingers start to feel a lot less intrusive, then actually kind of pleasant, and even downright good as Jet unintentionally starts to stroke one particularly sensitive spot just a few inches in. And then Zuko is panting, eyes lidded in pleasure as Jet gently starts to make a scissoring motion, the slight burn of the stretch lost underneath the arousal spilling out around skilled fingers. Zuko is eager for more, now soft and pliant under the other boy's touch, and he has to hold back a whimper at the knowledge that he'll be getting much, much more soon.

They're going all the way tonight. 

It's something he never would have thought he'd want- not in a million years- but the preparation is playing out right before his very eyes. Zuko watches as Jet slides out, his glistening fingers wrapping around his erection for a quick tug. 

Jet's cock isn't particularly long, but it's pretty thick. Now, Zuko knows he isn't familiar enough with penises to think things like that at all- he doesn't actually know what's average and what's not, especially with regards to size. Still, some part of him wonders if it'll even fit inside him. He knows, logically, that it has to, because his type of sex is incredibly adaptive. Because people have been penetrating each other for thousands of years, fully grown adults with probably-much-bigger-penises have been breaching virgin walls since the dawn of time. Spirits, even babies with their suspiciously big heads are supposed to come out of this hole! Surely a 15-year-old's cock will fit?

Breathe. Breathe. He has to take a deep breath to assure himself. He's been forgetting to breathe throughout this entire thing, which probably isn't good. He's a mess of nerves right now.

They'd planned this- they'd talked around it for days after Zuko brought it up, hesitant. The things they'd been doing before were satisfying, but Zuko had decided he wanted to try this at least once. After all, their equipment is very compatible for penetration, and, well, Zuko couldn't deny that he was just curious at this point. It was only logical to wonder why everyone wanted this, right? As good as fingers and tongues and lips were, everyone seemed to crave the riskiest kind of sex- the kind that could result in pregnancy. But Zuko is ready to give the last of his virginity to Jet. And Jet was more than receptive to the idea, of course. They'd talked about it, and Jet even offered up the knowledge that he was supposedly sterile, so they wouldn't need to splurge on buying condoms, or even pull out. Zuko… didn't quite want to take Jet's word on his fertility, and very pointedly did not ask why Jet thought he was unable to father children. Zuko did know, however, just from hearsay, that there were things he could take afterwards to keep himself from getting pregnant- even things he could take to end a pregnancy should one begin. So, he had a plan to prevent the worst, but it didn't make Zuko any less nervous about the act itself. 

The moment finally arrives when a hard cock teases at his entrance, the silky tip rubbing up and down his drenched folds. Zuko tenses a little, without meaning to. Then he's overcome with panic as the blunt head finally pushes against his front hole. It's just firm pressure at first, and Jet's hips slowly come forward. He's expecting it to hurt, but instead, the rigid cock slips right past Zuko's entrance, pressing against his perineum. Jet's bicep strains as he holds himself up with one hand, trying to line himself up again. 

"Sorry," the younger boy says quickly. "I want you, but I'm still a little nervous..."

"It's okay," Zuko breathes, because it is. He would have never thought Jet would be nervous, too. Jet is just a year younger than him, but much more experienced. He's so sexy and charismatic all the time, filled to the brim with the kind of confidence that Zuko is only just now learning to find within himself. So, for Jet to actually admit to being nervous… that's a big deal.

Zuko cups Jet's shoulders, fingers curling against darker skin, as if to assure the other boy that he's doing fine. More than fine, really.

Closing his eyes, Zuko can feel that pressure against his hole again. Jet moves slowly, and for a moment it feels like maybe he hasn't entered Zuko at all. But then all the firebender can feel is the dreaded ache that comes with being stretched. It's too much, and his breath catches, and he wants to stop, wants to concede that this thing won't fit inside of him, but Zuko doesn't want to disappoint Jet. He doesn't want to disappoint yet another person in his life- doesn't want to drive Jet away. He wants to be good for Jet, just like how Jet is good for him.

So, Zuko just lies there and takes it, gritting his teeth through the stinging pain, but it lasts only seconds. Jet slips inside at last, and suddenly Zuko is so, so full- so deliciously filled to the brim- that he finds himself holding his breath again. Jet pulls out a little, the ridge of his swollen tip catching briefly on the older boy's sensitive rim. Sparks of pleasure shoot up Zuko's pelvis, and he lets out the smallest of moans. And now that his hole is sufficiently stretched, adjusting almost instantly to the new piece inside of him, it feels incredible. In moments, he's breathing again, gasping for air as every part of him is set alight. It's in that moment that Zuko knows he's so completely fucked, and in every single sense of the word. 

Because he likes it. He likes it, and he likes Jet, and he really likes being joined to Jet in such a raw display of intimacy. That's what this is- intimate. It's supposed to be just sex, but it's clearly something so much more now. He doesn't know when it happened, when it started- when having fun turned into having feelings, but he can't be bothered to think too hard on that right now. He just knows that he's feeling everything right now, and it makes his jaw drop open with a small, breathy sound.

"So tight," Jet growls, pausing briefly to catch his breath. Then he starts to piston in and out of Zuko, deep and steady, and Zuko clings to the younger boy, nuzzling his mouth into Jet's shoulder. Some part of him wants to kiss and lick and nip at the sweaty skin tucked against his chin, but he's much too distracted to try. Golden eyes burn like his element, glazed over and unfocused, and all Zuko can hear are his own little whines, pouring out of him in time with each thrust.

"F-fill me up so g-g-good," he tries to say instead, because it's imperative Jet knows how otherworldly this feels. But he's being rammed into the coarse mat beneath him, his entire body jerking towards the wall with each rocking of Jet's hips, and he can't exactly get the words out. "Want-!"

"What's that?" Jet asks, slowing in his movements to pay closer attention. He turns his head, shaggy hair brushing against Zuko's eyelashes as their foreheads meet, and for some reason, that gesture feels very, very sweet. Tender. Beautiful.

"Fill me so good. You fill me up so good," Zuko babbles. "Fuck."

"Alright, baby boy," comes the husky reply, and Jet picks up the pace. The pet name should be ridiculous, but it sends a shiver down Zuko's spine, and in the best kind of way, forcing his lower back to arch in a display he's sure is much too whorish for royalty. 

"I'm gonna fuck you real good," a sweet voice says in his ear. "Gonna give what you deserve."

Zuko's orgasm doesn't hit him all at once. Most of their sexual encounters consisted of giving and receiving oral, and only recently have they been experimenting with fingers. Usually, when Jet's tongue works him into a climax, Zuko feels it coming from a mile away, his finish building, and building, before he's suddenly suspended in time, frozen on the edge of a cliff just before he tumbles down, and crashes into bliss. And Jet likes to lick him through it, leaving Zuko writhing, deliciously oversensitive.

This time is different, though. Here, underneath Jet, there's no hand on Zuko's throbbing cock, only the addictive feeling of being filled over and over again- that same spot inside of him constantly stimulated in just the right way. And it pushes him to the finish line slowly, so slowly he doesn't realise it's happening until his jaw goes slack, his fingers curl into Jet's back, his pelvic muscles quiver and contract. His vision goes dark, his head swimming as he struggles to process everything at once. He plants his feet firm on the edges of the sleeping mat, and he pushes up into Jet, the soft, wonderful buzz spreading throughout his body, warmth blooming in the coldest parts of him he hadn't known existed. He shakes, and he shakes, but his high doesn't feel close to ending. 

"W-want your come," Zuko stammers, tears forming behind his eyes. The words are out before he can even think to censor them. 

"Beg for it," Jet says, without missing a beat. And despite Zuko's insistence weeks ago that he doesn't beg for anybody, he now feels the words flying out of him with fervour. He wants to be good- wants to be good for Jet. And if Jet wants him to beg, then he'll fucking beg.

"Want your come!" he pants. He should be embarrassed, because doing new things with Jet always embarrasses him at first, but this time is different. This time he just lets himself want, almost like he knows with certainty that Jet's going to give it to him.

He trusts Jet to take care of him.

Without another word, Jet is suddenly pounding into him at a punishing pace, erection almost completely leaving his body before being rammed back in, and so far inside it teeters on uncomfortable. Zuko can only squirm and moan, shoving his face into the olive skin of Jet's neck as his pleasure continues to skyrocket. He's faintly aware that he's getting too loud, that Smellerbee and Longshot will hear, but he doesn't care at this point. He couldn't truly silence himself right now if his life depended on it.

He faintly notes how Jet's movements become more and more erratic, almost more frantic, but Zuko's soul is floating high above Ba Sing Se, unreachable by anything and everything. He can't be sure, but he thinks he may have even come a second time, because he feels himself shiver and a rather pathetic, breathy noise slips out of him- a smaller orgasm, but it feels incredible so soon after the first one. He's not oversensitive at all somehow. He's just buzzing with satisfaction, and he can't for the life of him even focus on what else is happening. 

Zuko's fairly limp and useless by the time he realises Jet has pulled out, and the firebender blinks up at his… whatever Jet is to him.

"That was amazing," he whispers, almost reverent. He blinks slowly, realising that outside infrequent wet dreams, he's never actually had an orgasm without external stimulation. "I… didn't know I could come from just that."

Jet makes a humming sound in agreement, still on top of Zuko, looking at him in a suspiciously soft-and-mushy kind of way. But Zuko doesn't mind that as much as he knows he should. 

"Uh," the older boy starts, eyeing the cock hanging between them. It still looks engorged with blood, but it also seems… different? He can't really tell, though, considering he's never seen Jet completely soft. He feels stupid for asking, but he does anyway. "Did you-?"

"Yeah," Jet says, as if the answer is obvious, but there's no condescension in his voice. "Came inside of you, just like you wanted." He gives him a small, sweet smile.

Aaaand there's the embarrassment.

"Didn't even notice," Zuko mumbles, eyes wide and face very red. Because surely that's not something he can just miss, right? Someone else's orgasm happening inside of him? "Sorry," he adds, though he doesn't feel terribly sorry about it at all. He of course enjoyed himself, but he definitely feels stupid for not focusing on Jet's pleasure. "Was... too far gone." 

At that, Jet chuckles, lowering himself to lay next to Zuko. And when Zuko shifts to turn into Jet's chest, to drape himself half-across the other boy's nude form, he feels it. He's sopping wet between his thighs, their combined release rapidly cooling against his feverish skin, and he's just barely aware of how more fluid dribbles out of his hole and down the stretch of skin beyond. 

It should be disgusting.

It isn't. 

He feels used, but in the best kind of way, yet another surprising thing he's learned about himself through sex. It's the only part of his life where Zuko doesn't want to be in control. He wants to be used and manhandled and taken senselessly. He wants to feel loose, wants to melt like candle wax beneath a burning flame. He wants to submit. That's what gives him control- willingly handing over the reins.

He's faintly aware that his stomach is cramping, almost like he's about to have his monthly bleeding, but Zuko figures that's probably normal since something-bigger-than-fingers had been punching in and out of his womb for the first time. He lowers his face into the crook of Jet's neck, fingers splayed across his toned chest. A shiver runs down Zuko's body as a few delayed aftershocks hit him, and he plants little kisses onto the bare skin in front of his mouth. One of Jet's hands is tracing his naked back, up and down, just barely grazing the swell of his ass. Zuko can't think of a time where he's ever felt more content. 

Content. Wanted. Safe. 

Loved. 

Fuck. He tries to shove that last part out of his head, instead grounding himself by toying with one of Jet's still-hard nipples. He sneaks a glance down. Jet's penis looks much less intimidating in this state- it's substantially smaller, nestled up against Jet's thigh. It's Zuko's first time seeing it like this, and he can't help but think it looks almost... cute? Little and soft and inconspicuous.

He thinks back, unbidden, to that scroll in the palace library all those years ago- one of his earliest memories. He remembers the awe in discovering something new, and now he feels that awe again, on a much deeper level considering he actually got to experience it. He got to feel that thing inside of him. How incredible, what their bodies can do.

And then he thinks of how it felt to have Master Yusu's part rubbing against him, but for the first time in a very long time, he doesn't feel terror grip him. 

Maybe, just because bad things have happened, it doesn't make good things… less good? His thoughts come quicker, seeming to make less sense as the words flash by in his mind, but he doesn't try to stop and question them. It feels like something finally clicks into place. He doesn't know what, but it makes his jaw unclench by the tiniest amount. He feels his shoulders relax into Jet's embrace just a little more. He feels like he learned something new, probably something about himself, but he's too tired to really think about it for any longer. He just knows he isn't afraid of whatever this is- whatever he has with Jet anymore. He wants to openly check Jet out on the street, he wants to smile when Jet flirts with him at work, he wants to think about Jet on the rare occasions where he finds the privacy to masturbate and he wants to not feel guilty about it afterward.

A minute or so passes, and Zuko shifts, turning so that he faces away from the younger boy. He can't help but push back into Jet's soft bulge, pressing his ass into the other boy until his still-slippery entrance makes contact with it. It's hot, unbelievably hot to think about how Jet's cock sits against him perfectly, no matter the size. It's so hot, in fact, that while Jet won't be getting it up again for a few minutes, Zuko can definitely go for another round right now. But instead of trying to start something else, the firebender ends up flipping over again, so that he can cuddle into Jet's side once more. Jet doesn't seem to mind his restlessness- probably expects it by now. He just stays on his back, and pulls the older boy closer, hand low on his waist. Their eyes are both drifting shut. Jet, however, has the tiniest smile on his lips. 

"Love you, Lee," comes his soft whisper.

Zuko acts like he doesn't hear it. He acts like he's already asleep, still and unresponsive. But he can't help the loosening in his chest, how things seem to shift and shift inside of him until there's enough room for Jet all the time. And it should absolutely scare him- should make him indignant, in denial, even angry. Because attraction is one thing, and sex is another thing, but love?

Love is...

Zuko supposes he doesn't know what to think about love.

His teenage brain is still mush from the sex- beautiful, pliant mush. He can't process anything right now- his emotions, or Jet's, or the gravity of what's been said or done. All he knows is that he wants this moment to last. This night hadn't just felt like fucking. It had felt more tender, more personal. 

Zuko wonders if this was what lovemaking feels like.


	8. Bring Honour to Us All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Main TWs throughout this chapter: talk of preventing pregnancy, shameful feelings surrounding queer sex.

The next day, he practically corners his uncle at the end of the workday, when the doors of the Jasmine Dragon have been closed and latched shut.

One eyebrow raised, Iroh says, "Yes, Nephew?"

Zuko swallows, visibly nervous. He'd been walking a little funny for the first few hours of his shift all thanks to the absolute pounding he'd gotten the night prior. Iroh had been throwing him worried glances all morning, but Zuko didn't want to try and talk about this until he was sure they were alone. Actually, he didn't want to talk about this at all, but he doesn't exactly have a choice. He knows his uncle will still want answers, and, well, Zuko also needs answers.

"Uncle," he starts, stiff and awkward. "I- Well, I did something. And it was an accident- I mean, no, it wasn't, because I definitely meant for it to happen, but-" He makes a small noise of frustration before ducking down to rub a hand across his face. When he looks up, Iroh looks much more concerned. 

"Nephew, I hope you know that you can speak to me about anything," the old man gently tells him. "You are young, and you still have plenty of time to make mistakes. It's a natural part of growing up, and I will always be at your side, supporting you where you need me."

Okay, wow, that's really kind, actually. But Zuko can't help but feel that he's still somehow disappointed his uncle- dishonoured him, even. 

"I- but you don't even know what happened," he protests angrily. "What I did. I just need something, but I'm-" He loses steam, shoulders slumping slightly. "I'm sorry, Uncle."

"Zuko," Iroh says, voice a soft rumble in the silent tea shop. "Please. I won't be mad. Whatever you have done, I promise, I-"

"I need something," the teen blurts out, face contorting as though the words are physically painful to say. "Something to- I need something to prevent- prevent pregnancy." Flustered, he adds, "After sex," in case that implication was already painfully obvious.

His uncle's eyes widen at the clearly unexpected confession, and Zuko cuts in again, hastily trying to explain himself, his face burning with humiliation. "I- I know, I shouldn't have- I mean, we're not even courting, and- I shouldn't be doing anything with someone outside of a courtship sanctioned by my father. And especially not with- with a boy-" 

"Nephew," Uncle cuts in, voice dangerously low. It makes Zuko stop dead in his tracks, shoulders tense. "Did this boy pressure you? Did he force you-"

"No!" the teen yelps. "No, Uncle, I- I wanted it. I'm so, so sorry, but I wanted it- wanted him. And I know it's wrong, but I just-"

He's not sure when his eyes started to gloss over with tears, but he definitely notices how blurry his vision is when the old man's arms wrap around him, pulling him down into a hug. 

"I'm not upset with you."

Blinking back his fear, Zuko says, stupidly, "You're not? But- but why-?"

"You are young," Iroh replies, as if that answers everything. "I can't say I'm not surprised, of course. Because I- well, I am. I didn't think you would be ready to take such a step at this point in your life. I wasn't even aware that you had an interest in boys." Before Zuko can open his mouth to futilely deny anything, the man continues. "But the point is, you are still so young, Zuko. You… you have seen and experienced many of life's horrors. It should only be fitting, then, that you also get to experience some of the best things that life has to offer."

"You're not mad," is all Zuko can say. He can feel the flush in his cheeks spread, not so much ashamed by his desires, as he had been in the weeks and months before- more so humiliated to be confessing such private desires to his uncle when there may not have been a need to be quite so detailed. Not to mention, he feels like an idiot for clearly thinking this to be a bigger deal than it apparently is.

"You're really not… upset with me? Disappointed?"

"No, I'm not, my boy," Iroh says gently, pulling back to wipe the tear tracks from his nephew's cheeks. "I feel a bit foolish that I had not thought to give you The Talk sooner, but it is better late than never."

Zuko's eyes widen. "The- The Talk?" Talking to his uncle about sex is quite literally the last thing in the world Zuko wants to do. He still remembers the awkward conversation they'd had about his changing body a few years prior. 

At least it's Uncle, and not- this conversation wouldn't have gone half as well with Father.

"Yes," the sage old man replied, his small smile apologetic. "I need you to understand the importance of being safe. Both with your body and your heart."

"Well, I- I know there's a tea I can drink? But, um," he hesitates, not eager to give his uncle any satisfaction with these next few words. But he has to say them, so he does. "You always say I don't think things through. And I- well, I just realised this morning that I don't actually know how to make the tea."

Iroh smiles, though it's not smug. It's almost amused. "I can help you with that, Nephew." But then his expression falters a little. "But it's best taken the morning after- within a day or so, I believe. So, when- when did this happen, Zuko? How recently?"

Zuko shifts uncomfortably beneath his uncle's worried gaze. "Last night." 

Something flickers in Uncle's expression, but it's otherwise unreadable. "Oh! I see." Because Zuko was out with Jet. 

Clearing his throat once, Iroh says, "Well, we can go to the market together. I will show you which herbs to buy, and how to brew the tea- It's a bit different from the way I usually brew." He pauses, as if thinking. "The sooner you take it afterwards, the better. But as long as it is within a day of such activities, you should still be protected. There is also something different you can drink regularly, to prevent pregnancy, if you are so inclined to- to do said activities again."

How long has it been since Iroh last had a conversation like this? Zuko can't help but wonder if Lu Ten got to experience the pleasures of flesh before passing. The thought briefly sends a pang of grief through Zuko's heart, but honestly, the wound is old. It doesn't hurt like it used to. But surely it must still hurt for his uncle, especially to be teaching another son about the facts of life. 

This man has given up so much for Zuko. How will Zuko ever be able to repay him?

They're both quiet for a moment, and Zuko finally whispers, "Thank you, Uncle. I- I just- Thank you." 

The prevention option- it's good to know that exists. But that's not what he's really thankful for. He's thankful for everything Iroh has given up for him.

"I know things are still confusing for you," comes the quiet and kind reply, "but I love you. I will always support you. You can come to me about anything, Zuko, I swear to you. I will always be here."

Zuko can't help it. The tears have dried but he can feel more stinging into his eyes at Iroh's bold declaration. 

It's one of the best feelings in the world, he decides, when you know who you can trust.


	9. The Crossroads of Destiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Main TWs throughout this chapter: gender dysphoria, references to past attempted sexual assault, brief transphobia. More detailed content warnings in the end note.

Days later, deep in the crystal catacombs under Ba Sing Se, Azula shakes her head. 

"I expected this kind of treachery from Uncle," she says, sharp eyes cutting through her brother. The look starkly contrasts her softening voice as she feigns disappointment. "But Zuko… Prince Zuko... You're a lot of things, but you're not a traitor, are you?"

He grits his teeth, hating how much her use of his title strokes his ego. He orders her to release their uncle, but Azula doesn't budge. In fact, no one moves. Uncle is only a few feet away, but trapped in place with large chunks of crystal. And Zuko is frozen, caught right in the middle. He doesn't know if he can trust her. Or, rather, he knows he shouldn't, but he desperately wants to.

Azula speaks again, but he only just barely hears her words. From his other side, Iroh begs him to reconsider. 

He thinks it should be an easy decision, but his legs won't move. He stands rooted to the ground, immobilised by anger and confusion and panic.

"-at the end of this day, you will have your honour back," Azula assures him. "You will have Father's love. You will have everything you want."

Everything he wants.

It could be that easy. He could go home, finally. Despite everything he's seen, everything he's questioned, everything he's learned… none of that seems so important anymore. 

Maybe he could just… forget it all happened. It would be like waking up from a bad dream.

Then: "Father got rid of Yusu. You remember Yusu, don't you?"

His eyes snap to her, and he clenches his jaw hard, as if trying to grind his teeth to dust.

Master Yusu. He'll never forget that name for as long as he lives.

"Turns out a few of the generals in that meeting already had concerns about him," she says, giving a half-shrug. "After your little show, they worried that their granddaughters would be next." She smirks, seeing her brother's eyes widen. Then she adds, "So, Father declared Yusu perverse, for trying to get handsy with a child." She gives what appears to be a sympathetic smile, but it doesn't feel genuine. "The bastard's been in prison ever since."

Wait. 

So, Father… knows what Yusu did was wrong. But then why did he- why get rid of Zuko?

"So, if you come back, there will be no one to stand in your way," she finishes, walking away without so much as a glance behind her. "You are free to choose."

But is he really? Zuko craves his father's love, disguised to the world by his rants about honour and destiny. He has done countless, horrendous things to inch closer and closer to being a child his father could be proud of. He has burned down villages of earth, and torn down walls of snow and ice. He has fought fire with fire, all while trying to chain down air, the element of freedom.

He is no one now, and if he doesn't take her offer, do all those hardships become meaningless? Does he lose this one chance to return home- to restore his honour and live freely once again?

Part of the cave swallows Azula, a dramatic exit orchestrated by her Dai Li, no doubt.

Here Zuko stands, in the heart of an enemy nation, unsteady on his feet. Weak from months of constant malnutrition and starvation, he thinks he doesn’t stand a chance fighting either his sister or the Avatar like this. Without jisu, his body has long ago broken down and consumed much of his hard-earned muscle mass just to keep him alive. It doesn't matter that he eats well now that he's in the Upper Ring, eating better than he has in a long time with the Jasmine Dragon's fair income. It doesn't matter, because the damage to his body and mind has already been done. And yet, the very same body clings to the deposits of fat on his chest, as though storing it away for harder times yet to come as he speeds through adolescence. The thought almost makes him snort in sardonic laughter, but he curbs the urge- his ribs hurt, too. He can count them beneath his skin without much trouble, and they hurt because he'd worn his too-small binder for weeks at a time while on the run, horrified by the thought of someone finding out what lies beneath. He doesn't even feel hunger anymore. He's grown used to the constant ache behind his navel, and how his stomach looks almost concave these days.

Zuko is in no condition to fight. He can't fight, but… he can't just stay either. 

He turns away from Uncle, eyes squeezed tight with thought.

If everyone knew Yusu had acted inappropriately, then why did Father make Zuko fight an Agni Kai? Sure, he did interrupt a council meeting, but it was an emergency. Crown Prince Zuko had just been assaulted-

And then burned- banished, and tossed away like trash-

He had spent the following three years cursed to chase a legend, only to become prey under his own people's law. A traitor, the posters say. A disgrace, a failure, the soldiers say. A man without honour- a man without a nation. Spirits, some still can't help but mention how they still think he's not even a man at all. A man without a cock, but more than willing to let a cock enter his mouth if it meant attention and praise and approval-

Fuck. A heavy feeling settles low in his stomach. If he couldn't get such things from his father, it's no wonder he jumped at the first man who came offering him love wrapped in sin.

Love?

Ignore it. He needs to ignore his complicated feelings for Jet. He needs to focus.

Zuko had spent months wandering across the Earth Kingdom with his uncle, looking over his shoulder every waking moment in case Azula- or the Fire Nation- or anyone, really- decided to catch him unawares. The feeling of Yusu's lips sticky against his own, hand reaching for his waist… It's a nightmare that's haunted him for years. Nightmares where the man gets away with so much more than stealing a teenager's first kiss. Years later, Yusu's mark still remains, much like the mark of his father.

Zuko has fought, and fought, and just when he thinks it might be okay to finally give up, just when he thinks he could deal with being worthless for the rest of his short, miserable life, his younger sister hands him a choice. A choice, he internally sneers. She has the audacity to tell him that everything he's ever wanted is within reach, if only he steps forward to accept it. As though she has the power to give him what he truly wants. 

Despite being a freakish force of nature, there are many things Azula cannot do. She can manipulate people, but she has no way of forcing him to accept his traitorous body. A firebending prodigy, yet she cannot bend the anger inside of him, and she cannot fan the flames of hatred in which his mind lives. Despite being a princess, her station will not be able to command the very little male jisu his body naturally makes to kick production into high gear. Her domineering personality cannot make his people accept him for who he is. Her bending can not heal his scar, and she wouldn't try even if she thought she might be able to. No, Azula’s flames only destroy, just like his father’s, just like his. She can't undo all the things he's done, whether they were misguided and in the name of the Fire Lord, or if they were ill-advised for his own personal gain. She cannot even guarantee that Jet would stay with him if the other boy knew who Zuko really was. Azula has fed him nothing but lies, and he doesn’t know why that surprises him. There's one constant about his sister, and one thing only. Azula always lies. Unless the truth hurts more.

He... doesn't think he can trust her.

And to say that this decision will change everything is a gross understatement. It's the most difficult choice he's ever had to make. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand, ignoring the doubt swirling around in the back of his mind. 

Moving swiftly, he tears off his apron and outer robe, his sleeveless undershirt much better suited to combat, because he knows that no matter what he chooses, he will have to fight someone. He locates his sister without much trouble, and standing at the entrance to the catacombs, his abdomen jolts, and he has to push down a sudden bout of nausea. 

It's the sound of Mom's voice rushing back to him as she tells him of Lu Ten's untimely death in this very city, tone wavering as salty tears fill their eyes. It's the morning after she disappears, the sheer panic filling his veins as he searches every inch of the palace for her. It's the sensation of Master Yusu pinning him down, a hot and hard erection pressing heavily against his stomach. It's the smell of skin melting beneath Father's hand, and desperate tears evaporating under the painful heat. It's Jet finding out about him- who he is, where he's from- and walking out of his life forever.

It's fear, he realises- that feeling in his stomach is fear. 

Zuko is afraid, but in a way he's never felt before. This isn't a raw, animalistic kind of fear. It's deeper. More troubling.

Because if he makes the wrong choice, his life is over.

The Avatar freezes, completely bewildered, when Zuko throws a fireball at his own sister. But more importantly, Azula looks so completely murderous that her reaction alone might make his treason worthwhile. Never before has he been able to make a fool out of her, yet now she's the one stepping back, kicking up a wall of flame to defend herself. Though she loses very little ground in her miniscule retreat, it still means Zuko caught her off-guard. 

"You're going to regret the day you were born," she snarls, her regal features twisted into ugly spite.

"Joke's on you," he says, grunting as he sends another wave of fire towards her head. "I already do."

The battle lasts for what feels like hours. He’s sore, limbs screaming in protest with each sluggish movement, but he has not survived 16 years of misery to die where Agni’s light cannot touch him. When he dies, he will die of old age under the watch of his elemental spirit, not underground from some pathetic sibling discourse.

"You must really have hit an all-time low if you're willing to work with a Water Tribe barbarian!" Azula shouts, rigorous blue flames pouring from her fists. 

"You're the only barbarian here!" the waterbender yells, both girls a little hoarse from all the insults they've been tossing back and forth.

They outnumber Azula, but that means very little. They cannot underestimate her. She is Azula, and she is ruthless. She is Azula, and she is cruel-

"Oh," Azula says, pretending to have realised something important. The exiled prince knows that tone of voice, and he knows he's not going to like what she says next.

"You're sleeping with the peasant, aren't you?" 

Katara shouts in indignation, but Zuko says nothing, only growing more wild and ferocious in his attacks. 

"How does that work, anyway?" his sister calls to him, vivid lipstick spread in a smirk.

He forces himself to not respond, but he can already tell she knows how deeply that cuts.

The young Avatar encases himself among glowing crystals, effectively taking himself out of the fight for now, which, wow- not the fucking time for that. Katara stands in front of the new rock formation, a few feet from Zuko, and she whips the water around her to create large, sweeping tentacles. 

"Don't go getting your heart broken, Zuzu," Azula says, dancing away from one water whip, only to dodge a fiery kick. "She might just leave you for the Avatar when she grows tired of you and wants a real man."

He doesn't think she actually means what she's saying, but she says it nonetheless because she knows it will hurt him. After all, it’s not exactly hard to figure out that Zuko always wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s often guided purely by emotion, his thoughts written all over his face for everybody to see. So, his temper flares, and he immediately strikes out with his feet too close together. The impulsive move leaves him off-balance. She trips him effortlessly, and with a powerful blast to the chest, he tumbles to the ground several feet away.

The rocky cavern groans in protest, and Azula is saved from a slew of icicles when a Dai Li agent knocks Katara off her feet. Then another man in dark green robes appears. 

And another. 

More emerge from shadowy crevices, and suddenly Zuko and Katara are surrounded.

The sound of shattering crystal engulfs the catacombs as Azula’s reinforcements pour in, but a different sound- something slightly more hollow, something not born of earthbending, catches Zuko's attention. A split-second later, a bright, white light fills the cave, signaling the Avatar's return. The boy floats from his hiding place, the crystals scattering as shards from the wild force generated by activating the Avatar State. His eyes glow, and his tattered clothes rustle in a supernatural gale. The sight momentarily captivates them all, and Zuko has his opening. He turns to Azula, already sprinting with his last dredges of chi, and his eyes widen impossibly when he sees sparks jump from her fingertips. 

He won't make it in time, he won't make it!

The Avatar is just a child-

He has to make it-

Children don't deserve to be burned-

He lunges for her. And even when his hand wraps around her wrist, and when the lightning courses through his trembling body, Zuko does not let go.

He guides it- he guides it as best he can, but it's so much, and he can feel it skating off his chi paths, bumping and sliding against his insides-

And then the skin around his eye melts as his eyelid bubbles and cracks, and he screams and cries and begs for his father to stop-

The resulting explosion of his failure to fully redirect her lightning blows them both backwards. Zuko flies into Katara, taking her down with his weight. Flashes of bright light dance behind his closed eyelids, and he thinks he hears his uncle's voice, but Zuko can't hold on any longer. His chest hurts, and he can only concentrate on the agony of every breath while he forces himself to live. Soft hands cradle him beneath the arms, trying to pull him to his feet, but his head rolls back, and the world finally fades with the roaring sound of water in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Detailed content warnings:
> 
> Gender dysphoria: Zuko briefly reflects on his experiences as a trans man; being on and off hormone therapy, chest development and binding inappropriately, fear of being outed. 
> 
> References to past attempted sexual assault: nothing explicit, they just reference the Yusu incident several times.
> 
> Brief transphobia: Zuko reflects on how people still don't think he's a man solely because of his genitals. Also, Azula makes two veiled comments during the fight, implying Zuko has sex differently, and that he isn't a 'real' man.


End file.
